Traitor's Game
by WillowDryad
Summary: Was it love or just a traitor's game?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter One

"Quiet," Edmund hissed. "They can hear you panting all the way back at Cair Paravel."

Remus ducked his shaggy head, yellow eyes filled with shame.

"Stupid pup," Romulus muttered, and Edmund immediately clamped one hand around his muzzle, glaring at them both.

Philip gave a soft, whickering laugh. It wasn't enough to carry over the cold howl of the mountain winds, but Edmund glared at him, too. They'd never find out who was out there if they betrayed their position now. The sooner their elusive shadow gave himself away, the sooner they could get back to the cave they had settled into for the night.

The pass between Archenland and Narnia was barely navigable in Yule, half buried in snow and ice, but Edmund had promised he'd be home for Peter's big day. For Christmas Day, too. The weather had slowed him down, and he'd be cutting it close as it was, but he'd make it. Whoever was on their trail, whatever he wanted, he wasn't going to make Edmund break his promises.

Edmund looked longingly towards the mouth of the cave. It was little more than a glow of light from where they watched. Not that much more than a hollow in the rock, but it looked warm and inviting. He could smell the roasting rabbit on the spit and hear the pop and crackle of the fire as it burned. And that roll of blankets, that deliciously warm roll of wool and down, how he wished he were wrapped up in it, snugly asleep, instead of just having fashioned it to look as if he were. It was miserably cold out here even in the cover of the straight-trunked pines. He wished he had eaten at least part of that rabbit before coming out here. Good thing the wind covered the sound of his growling stomach.

"Come on," Edmund muttered. "Show yourself. Show yourself."

Philip nudged his elbow and then looked towards the far side of the cave entrance. Edmund followed his gaze. There he was. There was the man who'd been following them for the past three days.

It was hard to tell much, cloaked and hooded as he was, but he seemed rather on the small side, lithe and swift footed, wary as he peered around the icy rocks of the opening. What did he want? Who was he? A Calormene spy? An assassin?

Edmund's mission to Tashbaan had been a fruitful one, intensely secret, an opportunity to ensure peace between Calormen and Narnia while allowing the Tisroc (may he be distracted by domestic problems forever) to save face by publicly refusing to consider any compromise with the white Barbarian Kings. But, once Edmund had left his palace, had he changed his mind? Was this intruder sent from him or from someone else?

Edmund narrowed his eyes. The man was creeping into the cave, slow and stealthy, pausing after every few steps, listening, watching, clinging to the dark recesses of the cave walls. When he approached the fire and had his back to the cave entrance, Edmund nodded at Philip, and the two of them and the Wolves moved in utter silence out from among the trees and into the deep shadow of the rocky overhang. There was only a sliver of moon, and they reached the cave undetected.

What did he want? Edmund peered around the entrance, crouching low to avoid the intruder's line of sight, watching as he approached the bundle of blankets meant to portray his own sleeping self, waiting for the appearance of a curved Calormene dagger or some kind of weapon, but the man merely watched, waited. What did he want?

Without warning, one hand shot out from under the man's cloak, seized the rabbit, spit and all, and bundled it into the snow-whitened dark folds. The Wolves looked at Edmund, absolutely affronted by such an outrage, but Philip looked as if he wanted to laugh again. Food? That was all he was after?

Edmund stepped into the light. "All you had to do was ask."

The intruder gasped and the rabbit fell to the ground at his feet.

"Though I'd rather you eat it than tread on it."

The man hunched down in his cloak, dropping his head so his face was almost entirely shadowed by his hood. Then he bolted towards the cave entrance, towards the black shelter of the night and the storm, but Philip stepped into his path.

"I daresay you'd find it much more comfortable in here than out there."

Seeing him, the intruder gave a most unmanly cry and fell into a heap onto the ground.

"Is he dead, King Edmund?" Romulus sniffed him. "He doesn't smell dead."

Remus looked at Edmund, yellow eyes hopeful. "If he's dead, does that mean we can eat the rabbit?"

"No," Edmund said sternly, "and no."

He dragged the man from the cave entrance to a place near the fire. If he'd been following them for three days with nothing to eat but what they left behind from camp to camp, little wonder he'd felt faint. Some fellows weren't made to fend for themselves in the wild. Then again, very few had a Centaur to teach them how to survive almost anything.

Edmund rescued the rabbit, held it for a few seconds in the fire just to get rid of any dirt that might have gotten on it, and then put it back in its place to stay warm. The stranger would need to eat when he came to, and something hot would be best for him.

Philip stood over the man, studying him even though he was still swallowed up in his cloak. "Not very impressive, is he. Why they let colts wander out in the wilderness alone I'll never understand. What are we going to do with him now?"

"Feed him, I suppose." Edmund got the wineskin from his pack. "A little of this ought to bring him round and warm him up."

He slid one arm under the stranger's shoulders and sat him up a little. As he did, the hood fell back, exposing the face to the flickering orange light of the fire.

Edmund blinked.

It was a girl.

 **Author's Note: So here we are again. It's been far too long since I've had time to play in Narnia, and I'm so glad to be starting a new story. Please be aware that I might not be able to update as frequently as I'd like, but I'm trying to keep the chapters short so I can at least try to get something posted on a regular basis. Enjoy! And please let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Two

A girl.

Even with the hood of her cloak pulled back, Edmund couldn't tell much about her. Her face was pale and drawn with cold and hunger, but it might have been pretty under less trying circumstances. Her hair was dark, though not black like his own, wet strands escaping from the thick braid that disappeared down her back. He'd seen her eyes for only a moment before she had fainted, black-lashed mahogany eyes wide with terror at the appearance of a talking Horse. Good thing it had been Philip she had seen and not Oreius. What in all the worlds was she doing out here in the mountains with no food and no escort?

He sat her up a little bit more and put the wineskin against her parted lips, pouring just a few drops of wine into her slack mouth. Immediately she coughed and tried to pull away from him.

"It's all right," he soothed. "You're in no danger here."

He didn't release his hold until she was still once more, though she trembled against him and her breath came in quick little hitches.

"It's all right," he repeated when she still stared at him with those big brown eyes. "No one's going to hurt you. Drink a bit more of this. It'll warm you up."

After a wary moment, she took the skin from him, sniffed the contents and then took a drink. Then she took a greedy gulp.

"Not too much." He set the wineskin aside. "Not on an empty stomach." He cut off the juiciest bit of meat from the roasted rabbit and offered it to her. "Especially not on one as empty as yours."

She swallowed hard and licked her chapped lips, eyeing the food and then him. Then she snatched the meat from him and tore into it. He tried not to smile too obviously. There couldn't be too much wrong with her if she had that kind of appetite.

"You're going to need another rabbit," Philip deadpanned.

The girl froze mid-chew. Obviously she had forgotten they were not alone.

Remus stuck his head over Edmund's shoulder, regarding her with a panting doggy smile. "I'll find one! I can find it! Want me to go now?"

Her mouth still full of rabbit, the girl shrank back from him, darting a glance toward the cave entrance and escape.

" _We'll_ find one," Romulus said, looking over Edmund's other shoulder. "You'd get lost or something out there by yourself."

Remus huffed. "Would not."

"Would too."

"Would not."

"Quiet," Edmund barked. "Both of you." He turned again to the girl, making sure his expression and movements were as non-threatening as possible. "I promise they won't hurt you."

The girl finally swallowed, her eyes still fixed on the Wolves and the Horse.

"I know it must be a bit startling," Edmund continued, "if you're not used to—"

"You're from Narnia." She swallowed again and then lifted her chin, a challenging, almost defiant gesture. "I've heard of that place. The unnatural things that—" She bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I should not have said . . . " For a moment she studied the four of them, and then she dropped her eyes. "I'm sorry. You've been very kind, and I did not mean to imply—"

Edmund chuckled. "No apologies needed, Lady. Narnia can be very unsettling if you're not used to it. You should have seen me the first time I saw the General of our armies. He's a Centaur, you know."

She stared at him, obviously not knowing what to say to that, but then the tiniest of smiles tugged at the corners of her mouth. "There are truly such things in Narnia?"

"Truly. And many others." He nodded toward Philip. "The Animals talk and there are many magical creatures, Nymphs and Merfolk, Dwarfs and Gryphons and too many others to name. But they are as natural in that place as you are in yours."

She gave Philip an apologetic look. "I most truly beg your pardon, Master Horse. You must lay my foolish words at the feet of my ignorance and not take them as due to any fault in yourself."

Philip made a slight bow of his head. "I took no offense, Lady."

"And the Wolves," she said, looking a little less certain as they panted and stared at her with their yellow eyes. "I see they are also your friends, Sir. I apologize to them as well."

"We're not mad," Romulus said.

Remus gave her a doggy grin. "We're always saying the wrong stuff on accident."

That made her laugh, a sweet unguarded laugh that echoed in the hollows of the cave, and then she put both hands over her mouth, her eyes filled with sudden tears.

"I'm sorry," she said again as she blotted them away. "I suppose I'm very tired. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along. I didn't at all know my way. And my food—"

"Eat," Edmund urged. "And have more wine. You need it."

He sent the Wolves out to hunt for more meat as she ate and drank, and then he took a few minutes to build up the fire. She had to be nearly frozen after following them so long with little food and only her cloak for shelter.

"I meant what I said before." He sat again beside her once she seemed to have eaten her fill. "You need only to have asked. Surely you did not come up into the mountains at this time of the year so ill provided."

"No." Her pale face turned a shade pinker. "I had, as I thought, plenty of provisions and trusty guides to bring me on my way to the port."

"The port? The port in Archenland is directly east of Anvard. Why should you come into these mountains?"

She shook her head. "I was going into Lionsgate."

"In Narnia?"

"My– my father's ship, _The Arabella_ , was sent out to the Seven Isles to trade. I heard I might get word of her there."

"I see." Edmund frowned. "Forgive me, Lady, but should he not have seen to such matters himself? Or sent one of his men?"

"He—" Her lips trembled and she pressed them together briefly. "He died three weeks ago. His men, the ones I thought I could most trust, led me into the mountains and then stole away with all my money and supplies. If I hadn't seen you, I fear I would have been lost forever."

Philip snorted, his dark eyes hard, and Edmund was certain his own expression was no different. What villains would rob so tender a lady and leave her to perish of hunger and cold?

"You should have come to us sooner, Lady. We would have saved you two or three days of misery."

"I know, but after what my father's own men did, how could I know whom to trust?"

That was understandable enough.

"If you will allow us," Edmund said, "we will be happy to escort you to Lionsgate and find word of your father's ship."

Philip nudged his shoulder. "The wedding?"

"Oh." Edmund looked at the girl and then at the Horse and then back at the girl. "My brother, the great numpty, is getting married on Christmas Day. I fear, given the delay this weather has already caused us, we'll barely make it back in time."

Her face fell, but she nodded all the same. "If you could just point me the way, I promise I will trouble you no further."

"No," Edmund said. "We won't hear of that, will we, Philip."

The Horse huffed. "I should say not."

"But perhaps, Lady, if you could see your way clear to coming with us to Cair Paravel, we will arrive in time for the wedding and hear news of _The Arabella_. If she was bound for the Seven Isles, she would almost certainly have put in at the Cair."

"Do you think so?" The girl's expression brightened again. "I would be more than grateful if I might go with you there. And when I find _The Arabella_ again, I shall repay your kindness in more than just words."

"There's no need, Lady. It is my pleasure. But, as we are to travel together now, it seems only right to tell you our names. I am Edmund." He gestured towards the Horse. "This is Philip. The Wolves are Romulus and Remus. We're all at your service."

He looked at her expectantly.

"Oh," she said, suddenly flustered. "I am Elain."

Elain. He liked the name. It suited her. It suited her very well.

 **Author's Note: So now you know a little more about the girl. I'd love to know what you think.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Three

"If you're from Narnia," Elain asked, huddling in her cloak a little closer to the fire, "what were you doing in Archenland? Visiting?"

Edmund handed her the wineskin, keeping his expression bland and guileless. She didn't need to know about his visit to the Tisroc (may he wear those stupid pointy toed shoes forever). "Actually, I went there to get a wedding gift for my brother's bride."

She gave him a shy smile and took a drink. "I should have thought there would be wonders enough in Narnia to prevent your going so far."

"But this was something available nowhere but the southwest of Archenland. At least not that I know of."

He went to a nook in the side of the cave, one that was well sheltered from the wind and cold, and took the dome-shaped parcel out of it. Once he had it there before the girl, he removed the cover, displaying a pair of birds that looked rather like doves except for the long feathers of the tails that swept behind them. For a moment they seemed to be headless, and then they took their heads out from under their silvery wings and blinked owlishly in the leaping firelight.

"Moonbirds!" Elain clasped her hands together, her dark eyes sparkling. "Oh, aren't they sweet?"

"You're familiar with them?"

"Oh, yes. They're native to my home."

Edmund smiled, trying not to look as if he were making a tactical assessment of her. "Deerfield? That's where my brother's betrothed is from."

"No, not Deerfield. Not quite." She looked over at Philip who was standing near Edmund, quietly munching carrots, and then gave Edmund a faint smile. "A bit south of there. Not quite to Calormen. Not that they are common even there, but we do see them from time to time."

She reached out one finger to stroke the plumed head of one of the birds and, startled, he puffed up his feathers and spread out his tail in what was certainly meant to be a menacing display. If nothing else, it was a gorgeous one. His feathers were silvery-white, shaded to a soft gray at the tips with an intricate, almost lacy, faint pattern over them. His eyes were large and liquid, rather frightened but mild all the same. The female, slightly smaller and with fainter markings, made a soft cooing sound.

"Don't be afraid," the girl cooed back. "No one will harm you."

She gently stroked one bird's head and then the other's, and they blinked at her. The male's feathers smoothed, and he seemed to settle a bit.

"They're so very beautiful," she said, smiling at Edmund, her dark eyes sparkling in the firelight. "What a lovely present for a bride."

"I hope so," he said. "But I'm told they have an amazing song, and all I have heard so far is a few coos. I'm disappointed."

She shook her head. "Have you had them out at night?"

"No." He frowned. "I've been trying to keep them warm. It's been fairly miserable out there ever since we got into the mountains. Besides, aren't birds supposed to sleep at night? My mother always covered hers until morning."

"No, no, no. Don't you understand? They need to be out in the moonlight. Then they'll sing." She rolled her eyes. "Why do you think they call them moonbirds, you goose." Immediately she clapped both hands over her mouth. "Oh, do forgive me. That was terribly rude of me and very childish, too. You had no way of knowing about the moonlight. You're not from Archenland and you couldn't have known. My father always said I spoke before I thought, and it's a terrible quality to have. I hardly know you at all, and you've been so very kind, and I–"

"No, please." Laughing, Edmund took her hands. "Please don't be sorry. My younger sister almost always speaks her mind, though she doesn't usually call anyone but me and my brother 'goose.' And when she does, we nearly always deserve it."

She looked at him for another anxious moment and then she laughed too. "Boys nearly always do."

"I expect we do," he said, glad that she seemed to have relaxed a bit. "I'm glad you told me about the birds though. It's been mostly overcast here in the mountains, but the moon is waxing, and when we get down into Narnia, we ought to have some lovely moonlit nights."

There was a sudden softness in her eyes. "I've twice heard moonbirds singing. Once when I was a little girl, and the second time the night my father died."

"I'm sorry you've lost him. What about the rest of your family?"

She shrugged, looking away. "Now that my father is gone, there's no one at home."

"Your mother?"

"She died when I was a very little girl. And when my father died, my–" She stopped herself. "My servants abandoned me, as you know. All I can do now is try to get news of _The Arabella_ and hope she has met with success."

"You needn't worry," he said, wishing there were some way he could make everything right again for her. "You will be welcome at Cair Paravel, rich or poor."

"Your family won't mind if I visit at such a time? Surely your brother's wedding has your family at sixes and sevens."

He grinned. "My older sister, certainly, but she's quite good at managing things, even unexpected guests. I know she'll be delighted to have you."

"And your younger sister?"

"She will be even more delighted, I promise."

Elain bit her lip. "And your brother?"

"Never mind about him. He's so twitterpated about his bride, he won't even know you're there. Or I'm there either."

That made her giggle. "Well, if you're certain I won't inconvenience anyone . . ."

"Not in the least. After all you've been through, you deserve some comforting."

She smiled over at the birds. "I sometimes think they were sent to comfort me, when they sang for my father's passing."

She looked away then, her cheeks suddenly pink, and he was glad he hadn't let go of her hands.

"Perhaps they were."

"They're birds," she said, looking skeptical as she took her hands away from him. "Nobody can send them to do anything."

"I know Someone who could."

Before she could reply, there was a commotion at the cave entrance, and then Romulus and Remus barreled inside, each of them carrying a freshly caught rabbit.

"I got one first," Remus said as he dropped his catch at Edmund's feet. "He took a lot longer."

"I did not." Romulus shouldered his way between his brother and Edmund, setting his rabbit next to the other. "I found the warren and flushed the rabbits out. He would never have caught anything without me."

"Would so," Remus said.

"Would not," Romulus insisted.

"So."

"Not."

"Enough!" Edmund gave them both a stern look until they ducked their heads and were silent. "Did you take something for yourselves?"

The Wolves both nodded.

"All right. Thank you for getting this. Now lie down by the fire and get warm."

Romulus did as he was told. Remus went over to Elain and sat down smiling, his shaggy head cocked to one side.

"Do you have puppies?"

She shook her head. "We had a dog when I was a little girl, but–"

"Humans always give their mates extra food when they're going to have puppies."

Her eyes widened, and then her face turned pink again.

"Remus!" Edmund glared at him until, tail drooping, he slunk over to the other side of the fire with his brother, and then Edmund turned to the girl, sure his face was as red as hers. "I'm so sorry. Please don't be offended."

She blinked at him for a moment, and then once again broke into peals of laughter. "And I thought I was bad about saying whatever came into my head."

He chuckled, still feeling rather sheepish. "I firmly believe my brother gave them to me just to annoy me."

Her forehead wrinkled. "Gave them to you?"

"In a manner of speaking," Edmund said with a shrug. "He doesn't like any of us going about alone. Narnia is the most glorious place in all the worlds, if you ask me, but it isn't always safe. It's a good idea to have a friend or two along if possible."

There was a touch of rue in her faint smile. "If you have friends you can trust."

He nodded, knowing what she said was all too true. "I know you've had a rough time of it, but we'll see you get to Cair Paravel safe and sound, won't we?"

The Wolves sat up, grinning again, and Philip whickered.

"I would be pleased to carry you, Lady," he said with a gallant bow of his head. "Whenever you choose."

"And we can get meat for you," Romulus told her. "Any time. Just ask."

"Even if you're not going to have puppies," Remus added helpfully.

Edmund sighed, and Elain laughed once again.

"You needn't worry, Lady," Philip said disdainfully. "There are some creatures in Narnia who have been taught proper manners."

"I'm sure there are," she said and then she smiled on the Wolves. "Perhaps we three can learn to be better behaved."

Their yellow eyes full of adoration, their mouths open wide in doggy grins, Romulus and Remus scurried over and settled at either side of her.

"I wouldn't expect too much," Edmund advised, "but you're welcome to try. For now, though, you should probably try to sleep. We'll be going down into Narnia first thing in the morning."

He gave her his bedroll, amused to see her and the Wolves curl up together. At least she would be warm. By the time he had skinned and cooked the rabbit, they were sound asleep.

 **Author's Note: So he's taking her with them to Cair Paravel. What do you think is coming up? I'd love to know what you think.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Four

Seeing that Elain was asleep with Romulus and Remus snuggled on either side of her, Edmund sat down beside the fire and took the roasted rabbit off the spit. The poor kid, she looked exhausted. At least she was fed and warm now. And safe. There was no reason they couldn't find out about her father's ship in Cair Paravel. And if they didn't, if she was left with nothing, that didn't matter. Susan and Lucy would definitely take her in, find her something to do at court, find her a–

He didn't allow his thoughts to travel any farther down that road. What difference did it make anyway? It was nothing to do with him. Let that great lummox Peter go all swoony because of some little fluffy headed girl. Edmund wasn't about to be roped in like that.

He glanced across the flickering flames and studied the girl for a moment more. Her dark hair was drying to a rich mahogany, little tendrils of it curling softly around her face and escaping the thick braid that fell over her shoulder. Her lips were softly parted. Her eyes were closed, the black lashes a heavy fringe against her pale cheeks. No, her cheeks weren't so pale now, not since she'd had something to eat along with a little wine. Not since she had two large Wolves curled up against her like lap dogs to keep her warm. Good thing she hadn't been offended by their hopelessly inappropriate questions. If she was going to travel with them to the Cair, she might as well get used to it. It would be rather nice to be around a lady who didn't have the vapors every time Remus said something embarrassing.

"What are you smiling at?"

Edmund started and turned to the Horse who was still munching carrots beside him. "What do you mean? I wasn't smiling. And keep your voice down."

"I beg your pardon. Let me rephrase. Why are you staring over there with the corners of your mouth turned up and a look of supreme bliss in your eyes?"

Edmund scowled and took a huge bite of rabbit, chewing violently.

The Horse whickered softly. "No need to be embarrassed. She is rather fetching. For a human filly. Of course, I haven't seen her fetlocks yet, but judging from the rest of her, they're as dainty as any mare's in Narnia."

Edmund looked over at Elain again and then his fierce expression softened. "It doesn't matter."

"Why not? You're of age. Your brother has found someone, and if I'm not mistaken, even Queen Lucy has. Why shouldn't you?"

Edmund shrugged.

"I've heard it before," Philip scoffed. "You've no use for silly girls who care for nothing but clothes and gossip. Even I've seen enough to know not all of them are so."

Edmund didn't look up. "I know."

"Not all of them are evil enchantresses bent on breaking your heart and snaring your soul."

Edmund scowled. "I know."

"Then–" The Horse stopped for a moment, suddenly serious, and gave his shoulder a gentle nudge. "Tell me."

"It's–" Edmund stopped again. It was no use saying why. No one would understand. He was a King, known for wisdom and justice, for honor and kindness and bravery. Now that Peter was taken, all the ladies in the realm and outside it would turn their attentions to him. But would they want Edmund Pevensie or only King Edmund the Just? He'd been betrayed before, and from those betrayals he'd learned a costly lesson. How much more painful would such a betrayal be when his heart was at risk?

He glanced at the sleeping girl, making sure to look faintly disgusted. "It's foolish to think that kind of thing about someone I've just met."

Philip rolled his eyes. "What would it hurt just to get to know her? I mean, without suspecting her of wanting to murder you and your brother and sisters and take Narnia for herself?"

"Droll," Edmund said, stone faced. "All she wants to do is find out about her father's ship. I expect it's hard for her to get on with her life when she doesn't know where she's going to live and whether or not she has anything to live on. She certainly doesn't need some cotton-brained ninnyhammer trying to court her while she's in mourning."

"I didn't say anything about courting. I just think that if you like her, there's no reason not to get to know her better. No need to make a big show of not being interested. Not in front of me anyway." Philip whickered softly. "The Queens, of course, are a different matter."

Edmund couldn't help laughing himself, though he made sure to keep it low. "I've hardly had two words with her, but you're right. If I told the girls I thought she was a good sport and rather all right to look at, they'd have the banns read that same day."

Philip looked puzzled. "Banns?"

"Oh, it's something they used to do in that Other Place when a man and a lady wanted to get married. There would be an announcement in the church three Seventhdays in a row so everyone would know about it before they could have the wedding."

"But why wouldn't they just–"

"I really don't remember much more than that about it. Besides it being a very long time ago since I thought anything about it, it wasn't something I was exactly interested in when I was ten. If you want to know details, you'll have to ask Susan."

Philip snorted. "No, thank you. No matter what I say to our Gentle Queen, it always ends with her scolding me because you ought to have your hair cut and you're not eating enough."

Edmund suppressed another laugh and stroked the chestnut's mane sympathetically. "Then we'll just keep it between you and me, right?"

"Right," Philip said, looking over at Romulus and Remus. "You definitely don't want those two blurting out something in front of the lady."

"What they've already said is bad enough," Edmund agreed, and then he lowered his voice even more. "I . . . don't think I want to say anything about being King either. Not yet."

"Very well, but the Wolves–"

"I know."

Edmund shook his head. Romulus was still sleeping with his head on the girl's shoulder, but now Remus was sprawled on his back, his head laying across the girl's neck and all four feet in the air. One back paw was twitching.

"Maybe it's best to not mention anything to them about this. If I ask them not to say anything about who I am, they're a hundred times more likely to blurt it out."

"She'll have to know in time," Philip said. "Even if you are to be no more than friends, she's bound to find out much sooner than later."

Edmund looked at the girl again and then shrugged. "Later will be soon enough."

 **Author's Note: Sorry it's taken so long for me to update, but never fear. It may take me a while to get this all told, but I promise I won't abandon the story. Coming up: Narnia and the North! Do let me know what you think.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Five

The morning dawned cold and clear. Edmund was eager to get out of the mountains and into Narnia proper, and after a brief meal, he packed his belongings and the Moonbirds onto Philip's back and they all headed out of Archenland. Whether his stay in a foreign place was long or short, there was always something about coming home that quickened his pulse with anticipation. When they came out of the pass and all Narnia lay spread before them, the sun sparkling on deep fields of snow and the glittering branches of ice-sheathed trees, and he stopped for a moment, his heart swelling with love and pride and longing.

"Oh."

It was all Elain said, more of a sigh than an actual spoken word, and he turned and smiled at her.

"Narnia," he told her, inordinately pleased by the look of wonder on her face, and he pointed out a frozen silver ribbon. "That's Glasswater Creek, and you can see a bit of the Eastern Sea. Cair Paravel is just down the coast. "

She nodded, her soft mouth slightly open, her brown eyes wide and wondering. "I've always thought Archenland was lovely, but I guess that was because all I had to compare it to was the great desert of Calormen. Narnia . . . " She looked north and east and west, straining to take it all in. "I hope I may see all of it someday."

"I haven't always appreciated the winter here, but every year I see more and more that amazes me, like seeing an exhibit of an artist's new painting of an old subject. Still, I hope you may see it in the spring, too. I'll never forget my first spring here. In hardly a day, the snow and ice melted and the trees and grass sprang up and everything came to life."

Somehow her eyes got even wider. "Does it always happen that way here?"

He laughed, mostly to himself, and shook his head. "Only that once, but it was a very special spring. Still, we couldn't have Christmas if we didn't have winter, though I suppose that would be better than having winter and never having Christmas."

She nodded, looking as if she wasn't quite sure what he was talking about, and he took her arm.

Philip whickered softly. "Speaking of Christmas, aren't we supposed to be home before then?"

"Right," Edmund said. "We'd better hurry. Lady, will you ride?"

Elain turned to Philip. "I'm not sure how I ought to ask permission of a talking Horse. I don't like to presume . . . "

Philip bowed his head. "You are most welcome, Lady, as I said."

Edmund helped her into the saddle and they set off. He and the Wolves walked along side the horse, keeping up as brisk a pace as the snow would allow. But they were soon out of the mountains and following Glasswater Creek north to Cair Paravel. When the creek curved toward the shoreline, they crossed over it, taking careful steps on the ice until they were again on the snowy ground.

The sea was near now, gray and cold and fiercely beautiful as it roared and crashed against the icy rocks. They sat watching it when they stopped to eat at midday, and he told her about the Merfolk who lived deep under the waves. As they were preparing to start their journey again, a pair of Snow Buntings fluttered into sight.

"Good day! Good day!"

Edmund bowed, glad he hadn't met these particular Birds before, glad he didn't have to worry about them identifying him to Elain. "Good day, Cousins. Where are you bound?"

"Foraging, good Cousin," the male peeped. "Foraging."

"Aslan is good," chirped the female. "Even in the winter."

"Especially in the winter," Edmund told her.

"Are you going north," the male asked. "We have seen many making their way north. To the Cair."

"To the wedding," added the female as she landed on Edmund's shoulder. "Everyone is going. Are you going?"

"Of course he's going," Romulus said, looking vexed. "We're all going."

"He's got to go," Remus said with a happy display of teeth. "His brother's the–"

The Wolf yipped and glared at Philip who had, only very lightly, stepped on his tail.

"So sorry," the Horse murmured, and Remus scowled at him.

"You'd better hurry," the male Snow Bunting said, blinking his shiny black eyes. "We must fly!"

He soared away and his mate flitted after him, calling her farewells until they were out of sight.

Elain watched them go, her own eyes shining. "How wonderful it would be to live in such a place. It would be lovely to stay here forever."

Edmund helped her up into the saddle once more. "Isn't there anyone who will be worried about you by now?"

She shrugged. "As I told you, there's no one at home anymore. My parents are gone. My servants left me. All I can hope for is that _The Arabella_ has come back and brought riches with her."

"And if she has?"

"I don't know." Again she shrugged. "Either way, I may never go back. There's nothing there but sorrow. Are there places in your city where humans live? Or would I have to take up residence in a Rabbit warren?"

He laughed. "It's not so dire as that. True, there are not so many people in Narnia, but there are places to live. I'm sure we could find you one, or have one built for you. We have some very fine craftsmen, you know, especially among the Dwarfs. But never worry about that. You are more than welcome to stay with us until you decide what you want to do. My sisters would be very happy to have you as their guest."

As they went along, he made her laugh with stories of his adventures with the girls and with Peter, though he left out the more difficult ones. They met a number of small Animals, a Fox and some Badgers and a very large family of Rabbits, and exchanged polite greetings. A Red Dwarf and a pair of Lynxes in deep conversation hurried by and did not stop. There were Mice and Squirrels, all quite chatty, and more and more birds. They were all heading north to the Cair. To the wedding of the High King.

They took shelter that night in a copse of trees between the sea and the River Rush. It would be only a short walk to the Cair the next day. Christmas Eve. He'd make it just in time for Peter's wedding, but he was sorry now that this little journey would have to end. With Elain, he got to see his well-loved Narnia through fresh and wondering eyes. If she was amazed by talking Animals, what would she think when she saw Nymphs and Fauns and the countless other Magical Creatures who would be at Cair Paravel?

The eagerness he felt suddenly turned to dread. What would she think when she found out he was a King?

"You must tell her," Philip said softly when Elain and the Wolves were once more asleep. "Before she finds out herself."

"I know." Edmund huddled over the fire, somehow unable to get warm. "Tomorrow."

 **Author's Note: I finally had a few minutes to work on this story. I may be slow, but I will eventually finish it. Do let me know what you think.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Six

The path that wound through the forest was clear. There had been too many before them on the way to Cair Paravel, too many hooves and paws and feet of all descriptions, for even last night's lush snowfall not to be worn away. It made Edmund's task easy as he led Philip, the Lady and the Moonbirds on his back, and followed the Wolves through the ice-dazzled trees and finally into the clear of the meadows.

He stopped as he always did when the Cair came into sight, gleaming ivory-pale atop the snowy cliffs over the Eastern Sea, glistening and glorious, the home of his heart. The sea was shining and silver, calm except for the quick flashes under the surface that told of the presence of the Merfolk. Of course they would come to sing their high, haunting songs. It was Christmas Day and the wedding of the High King. All Narnia would come.

As always, the chattering little Animals, Mice and Rabbits and Squirrels, stopped to give him greetings. "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!"

Edmund greeted each in turn, many of them by name, and introduced them to Elain. Several of them, especially the ones with young, whispered to each other with sudden delight, though they were perfectly polite and welcomed her. A pair of young Does batted their liquid brown eyes at Edmund and then, giggling, bounded away together, joining the gathering throng headed toward the castle.

"What?" Elain asked. "Why do they all smile and look at me as if they know a secret they're eager to tell?"

"My fault, I'm afraid," he admitted, feeling his face redden. "There are not many human ladies here in Narnia still. Especially the comely ones."

That made her turn a little red, too, but there was a touch of a smile on her full lips.

"They think you're his mate," Romulus said when Edmund evidently did not explain quickly enough.

"We didn't tell them," Remus insisted, seeing the look on Edmund's face. "We didn't say anything about puppies. Not even on accident."

He gave Elain a panting doggy smile, obviously proud of the accomplishment, and Edmund covered his eyes with one hand, cringing.

Philip looked speculatively at the Wolves. "How would the two of you like to go for a swim in the Sea?"

Puzzled, Romulus tipped his head to one side. "But it would be cold today."

"And it would take us a while to get there," Remus said.

The Horse glared at them. "Depends on how hard I kick you."

At the sounds of soft laughter, Edmund peeped between his fingers, and then he gave Elain a rueful smile.

"I can't promise you they'll ever be any different."

"Oh, I hope not," she said, her cheeks rosy now with merriment. "You don't know how nice it is to feel safe and happy again. There must be something in your Narnian air that makes everything better."

"It is Aslan's air," said the low, almost-sighing voice of a Ash Dryad. "We feel it always."

"Good morn, Melia," Edmund said with a courtly bow. "And Merry Christmas."

"And to you," she replied, making a deep curtsy, the leaves in the wild tumble of her hair rustling as she did. "You have come home for the wedding, I see. Of course, the High King could not do without his brother."

"Uh, well," Edmund stammered. "I, uh . . . "

"I will not keep you, Your Majesty." Again the Dryad curtsied. "You must have much to do before the great event."

She was gone before he could say anything more, joining a group of Satyrs and Fauns hurrying toward the Cair. Elain had her eyes fixed on them, but whether it was wonder at seeing such creatures for the first time or astonishment at what she had just heard that held her silent, Edmund was afraid to ask. Finally the silence was too much for him.

"Elain? Elain, I–"

"You're _King_ Edmund?" she said, still staring after the Nymph. "King?"

He glanced pleadingly at Philip, but the Horse merely gave his shoulder a firm nudge. Clearly he must go on.

"I'm sorry," he managed. "I never meant to keep anything from you. I just wanted us to be able to talk as friends without being too formal and without making you uncomfortable. Forgive me?"

He gave her a look, appealing and winsome and just a tiny bit mischievous. That finally won, if not a smile, at least a softening in her expression.

"We hardly know each other. Why should you tell me anything you don't want to?"

"I wasn't trying to deceive you," he assured her. "I hope you're not offended."

She was silent for a moment more, looking as if she were the one who had offended him. "If we're to be friends, I suppose there will be many times when one or the other of us is in need of kindness and understanding. Maybe next time will be my turn. I hope I shall have it from you."

There was such sweet pleading in those mahogany eyes, he was sure he could never deny her anything, especially kindness and understanding.

"Of course. I pledge it on my honor."

"I have heard," she said, the seriousness in her expression suddenly gone, "that you are a Knight as well as a King. I see that it is true."

He gave her hand a courtly kiss. "You will never find me false to my word."

She laughed as if he spoke in jest and pulled her hand away, but he saw the sparkle of tears in her eyes. Who had so hurt her with deceit that the mere pledge of truth was enough to make her cry? He wasn't about to let her be hurt again.

They traveled on, not speaking. The Wolves had run ahead, eager to alert everyone at the castle that Edmund had returned. He had no sooner set foot inside the courtyard when he heard a happy shriek and Lucy flung herself into his arms.

"Edmund! Edmund!" She kissed his cheeks and hugged him furiously. "You made it for Christmas! I knew you would. Peter will be so glad."

She beamed at him, a golden-haired, blue-eyed embodiment of light, and as always he was unable to keep from smiling, too.

"Peter won't know or care, he's so besotted."

"That's not so," she said, giving him a playful swat on the hand. "He's been asking where you are all day, and his valet is about to give up trying to get him dressed for the wedding. You'd better go calm them both down."

"All right, all right, not to worry. First I'd like you to meet our guest, Lady Elain." He helped the girl down from Philip's saddle. "Elain, this is Queen Lucy."

Elain curtsied, looking warily at Lucy. "Queen? I did not know you had a Queen, Your Majesty. We hear so little news of Narnia in my part of the world, and sometimes the news we do have is not entirely accurate."

"It is confusing," Lucy said, taking her arm. "We have two Kings and two Queens here, and none of us is married. Well," she added with a twinkle in her eye, "not till this evening."

"You're not–"

"We're all brothers and sisters," Lucy explained. "I can't say I quite understand how that works, but Aslan made it that way and we've all enjoyed it terribly."

She led the girl across the courtyard toward the Cair, chatting as if they'd known each other for ages. With a helpless shrug, Edmund led Philip after them.

"I would take you to meet my sister, Queen Susan, but she's trying to make sure all of the wedding guests are seen to and the bride as well and that our brother Peter doesn't do something silly like fall down the stairs or something and end up with a concussion on his wedding day."

Elain giggled.

"What did you bring?" Lucy asked, suddenly noticing the covered cages hung from the saddle. "May I see?"

"No," Edmund snapped. "Clear off."

"That's not nice. Just a peek?"

"No."

She pouted, turning her eyes up to his in that look she well knew neither he nor Peter could ever resist.

"No," he said, but he winked at her and tapped her nose with one finger. "They're a wedding present, and they can only be truly appreciated by moonlight. Now don't spoil the surprise, all right?"

She grinned. "Ooooh, delicious. All right. There's plenty to do before the wedding anyway, and you'd better go see Peter or there might not be one at all."

"Lady Elain–" Edmund began, but Lucy only shooed him away.

"Go on now. I'll see to our guest. She looks tired and hungry. You never did realize some people need to eat, even if you don't."

"That's not true!" he protested. "I eat plenty. You and Susan always say–"

"Go," she ordered, pointing one finger toward Peter's room. "Make sure he's doing all right and then get yourself ready. We don't have a lot of time."

He turned to Elain, shrugging helplessly. "You see what I must face day in and day out."

"Yes," she said, half laughing, "I see you are much to be pitied."

"You could make this all so much less painful if you would consent to be my guest at the wedding and the grand ball afterward."

"Oh, no." Elain looked to Lucy and then back at Edmund. "I couldn't possibly impose. I haven't an invitation, and I'm sure your sister has everything planned and–"

"Nonsense," he said. "You've seen the guests coming from all over Narnia. We have plenty of room for everyone. Susan will be delighted to have you."

Lucy nodded eagerly. "Do come." She looked Elain up and down. "I know it is very last minute, but I have the perfect dress for you. It's the most glorious ivory silk with cut sleeves and a sweetheart neckline and the most cunning little butterflies embroidered on it in pale gold. Do say you'll come try it on. I'm taller than you, I know, but not by so much that we couldn't hem it up. I'm sure the Mice won't mind."

"The Mice?" Elain asked, looking at Edmund, bewildered.

"Oh, the Mice do the loveliest embroidery and cutwork," Lucy said, taking her arm again. "I'm sure they can do a hem in plenty of time for the wedding. And while they're fixing the dress, I'll have Millicent draw you a nice hot bath. She's an Otter, you know. Mostly she does the floors, but I'm sure she can see to that for you. And we'll send up something for you to eat, not too much or you won't want to eat at the banquet later on, and then Susan will worry that something's wrong. You have such nice hair. Leona, she's a Raccoon, she usually does my hair for special occasions. I'm sure she won't mind . . . "

They walked into the Cair chattering, and Edmund smiled after them. Maybe this wedding wouldn't be such an ordeal after all.

 **Author's Note: So we're finally at the Cair. Peter's wedding is coming up next, though it may not be quite the way you expect it to be. Do let me know what you think.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

 ****************************** ** ************ ** ** ********** ** ** ** *************** ** ** ** ** ******** ********* ** ** ** ** ************ ********IMPORTANT********************************** ********** ********** ********** ********

 **IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE COMPANION STORY TO THIS ONE,** _ **LOVE'S CAPTIVE**_ **, PLEASE DO SO BEFORE YOU READ THIS CHAPTER. OTHERWISE, YOU WON'T AT ALL UNDERSTAND WHAT HAPPENED. THANK YOU.**

 ****************************** ** ************ ** ** ********** ** ** ** *************** ** ** ** ** ******** ********* ** ** ** ** ************ ********IMPORTANT********************************** ********** ********** ********** ********

Chapter Seven

"It was the only way I could get him to go," Edmund told Elain as he guided her across the Great Hall's marble floor to the lilting melody of Mr. Tumnus's panpipes. With the help of Edmund's benevolent duplicity, Peter and Linnet had finally retired for the evening. The dancing and feasting in celebration of the wedding of the High King continued.

Elain shook her head, looking as if she couldn't decide whether to scold or laugh once he had told her the tale. "It was very bad of you, but truly, after I saw your brother with his subjects, especially the little ones, the Birds and the Rabbits and the Cats, I fear you had little choice if he was ever to join his bride. As near to Calormen as I have lived, we hear all manner of strange tales about the Kings and Queens of Narnia and their subjects, and I wasn't certain what to expect."

"I hope we do not disappoint," Edmund said, turning her before him in the dance and then drawing her back into his arms.

Thanks to Lucy and her Mice dressmakers, the ivory-silk gown Elain wore looked as if it had been made for her, and the Raccoon who usually did Lucy's hair had put Elain's thick dark locks into one loose plait banded with gold to match the bracelets at her wrists. It was all very becoming.

She looked up at him, not quite smiling, but there was a sweet warmth in her mahogany eyes. "I saw the love and tenderness he has for them, for all of them, and it was so kind of him to want to speak to each of them himself. It was not something I thought to see in a King and a great warrior. And, too, after hearing of so many of his adventures, I thought he, well, all of you, would be so much older, like our own King Lune."

Edmund laughed at that. "Lune is the best of Kings and the best of men, but he is nearer our father's age than our own."

"I see that. I'm glad." The color in her cheeks deepened, and she lowered her eyes. "I mean, I think your Aslan chose wisely in making him High King."

"Don't tell Peter that. He'd never get his helmet to fit over his big head again."

She giggled, looking up again. "You really are very bad, but I'm sure Queen Linnet appreciates what you did."

"She'll have years and years to be annoyed with the great lummox as it is. No use having her start out that way."

Edmund turned Elain again, appreciating how gracefully she danced and the ease with which she followed his leading. No doubt her fetlocks were dainty enough to earn even Philip's approval.

"She loves him," Elain said. "I could see that from the first moment I saw them. And you love him."

Edmund shrugged, feeling the faintest color come into his face.

"Don't deny it," she said, that sweet warmth still in her eyes. "As much as I'm sure you devil him and no doubt have all your life, you would not have helped him tonight if you did not. That must be one of the great wonders of your Narnia. We are always hearing tales of the sons of the Tisroc–"

"May he be served lukewarm tea forever," Edmund intoned.

"Behave," Elain said, giggling again. "Anyway, his sons are forever plotting against him and against each other. It is lovely to see it is not so here."

"I try to plot _for_ my brother and not against him."

The music ended just then, and Edmund offered Elain his arm. "Shall we step out onto the balcony for a moment and catch our breath?" He glanced over to make sure his Wolves were still sprawled out in front of the blazing hearth fire. They had both taken liberal helpings from the banquet tables and weren't likely to move until morning . . . as long as Oreius didn't notice their dereliction of duty. At least neither of them would be making embarrassing observations in front of his guest. "Even this time of the year, it is sheltered enough so we shouldn't be too cold."

Elain rested one soft hand on his sleeve, smiling up at him. "That would be lovely."

They made their way across the floor. Halfway to the balcony, Elain slowed and leaned closer to Edmund. "Who is that, my lord?"

He followed her gaze and saw an elegantly dressed white-and-tabby-spotted Cat with his equally elegant Tabby mate in a lace ruff and velvet cape. They had just began dancing to a slow tune played by the Dryads.

"That is Sir Elliot Pouncepaws and his wife, the Lady Emily. I suppose their Kittens, they have four of them, are all asleep now. If you'd like, I would be happy to introduce you to them in the morning. Be warned though. Eddie bites."

That startled a laugh from her, and she quickly covered her mouth. "Eddie? As in . . .?"

Again Edmund felt a slight bit of color come into his face. "Yes. The Kittens are called Petie, Eddie, Suzie and Lulu. I'm told it's a great honor among Cats to have a Kitten named for one."

"I'm sure it must be. Yes, I'd love to meet them. I have– had a cat that looked very much like Lady Emily. Not as big as your Narnian Cats, of course, but marked the same."

Edmund's smile vanished. "Had? I'm so sorry."

She shook her head. "She's not dead. I hope she's not dead. But I had to give her away. I miss her very much."

Edmund led her out onto the balcony, not sure what to say, not wanting to pry. "I'm sure you must. Didn't you want to bring her with you?"

She wrapped her arms around herself in the cold night air, blinking back tears. "Of course I did. I would never have left her behind if I could have helped it, but it's safer–" She looked up at Edmund, eyes wide, and then looked down again. "Better. It's better for her where she is."

What was she afraid of? Yes, she had been robbed and abandoned in the mountains between Archenland and Narnia, but she was safe now. Even if her father's ship had been lost, she was safe and provided for here at Cair Paravel. What, truly, did she fear?

"I see," Edmund said after a moment.

He said nothing more, his thoughts racing with questions and possibilities, but he made sure his expression gave no hint of that. He merely stood looking out over the rolling, night-black sea.

She looked at him again, her eyes pensive behind her forced smile. "Do you think we might see if there is news of _The Arabella_ in the morning, My Lord?"

He inclined his head just the slightest bit. "All the ships that come from the Seven Isles put in at Cair Paravel. If _The Arabella_ was here, there will be news of her. There very few things in Narnia, Lady, that I do not hear about. And what I don't know, I can usually find out." He smiled and offered her his arm. "I think you are chilled already. Shall we go back inside?"

She made a low curtsy and, accepting, walked with him back into the Great Hall.

 **Author's Note: So, we're back to Edmund's part of the story. He's got a lot to think about and a lot to figure out. But he's Edmund, right? I'd love to know your thoughts about this chapter and about what you think is going to happen. Reviews are love!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Eight

The next morning, despite Elain's request that they look for information about her father's ship, Edmund found that she was otherwise engaged and would not be at leisure until the afternoon.

"She's got to have more to wear than that one torn-up dress she had when she came here and the ball gown she wore last night," Lucy said, coming out of the room that Elain was staying in and then pulling the door to so Edmund couldn't see in. "If you'll be patient until after lunchtime, then you can go find out about the ship and whatever else she wants to do. The Mice will have everything they need by then to get started on her new wardrobe." Lucy beamed at him. "She's going to look awfully pretty."

Edmund looked down his nose at her. "And what's that to me?"

With a giggle she flung herself against him and hugged him tightly. "I'll explain it to you when you're older."

That made him laugh. "That's very naught of you, Valiant Queen. Very naught." He planted a smacking kiss on the top of her golden head. "All right, I'll admit it then. Elain is a very pretty girl. And when I say she's a very pretty girl, I mean she's a very pretty girl. Exactly that and not anything more, so you and Susan don't start getting ideas."

Lucy pouted. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Lucy–"

"We're not going to _say_ anything, you great goose. Not like your Wolves do."

Edmund sighed. "What have they been saying now?"

"I haven't heard anything new," Lucy admitted, giggling again, "but it's early yet."

"I'd better go see what they're doing before they start talking about puppies again. I have some things to see to. Do me a favor and tell Elain I'll see her at lunch and then we'll go down to the docks, all right?"

"I'll tell her. Oh, Edmund?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm not going to tell you where Peter went."

"Now you're being mean. It's not like we're going to go there."

"Then why do you want to know?"

"Just to know." Lucy looked up at him, her eyes wide and guileless. "What if he and Linnet need something? What if one of them gets hurt?"

"I'll be the one who gets hurt if you and Susan show up for afternoon tea during his honeymoon."

Lucy put her hands on her hips. "We are not going to show up for afternoon tea. It's just not right that nobody knows where they are."

"Somebody _does_ know," he told her placidly. "Me."

"Edmund."

"You just want to know because you want to know, and I'm not telling you. They have everything they need for a week. Peter's Tigers are keeping watch over them, from a discreet distance, and beyond that Oreius has aerial, aquatic and ground troops all around them. He gets reports every four hours. I think that's enough, isn't it?"

Lucy pouted.

"Listen, if Oreius is satisfied, then we should be, right?"

She huffed. "Oh, I suppose. I was just curious."

He gave her another squeeze. "I'm sure Linnet will tell you all about it, well most of it anyway, when they get back, and you girls can squeal and giggle and whatever else you choose all to your hearts' content."

Her pout deepened, and he tapped one finger against her nose.

"One day you'll want a honeymoon, Valiant Queen. And how many of your closest friends and family would you like to have tagging along when the time comes? And," Edmund added with the most innocently concerned expression he could muster, "what would Darreth think?"

That made her blush. "Oh, hush now. You know there's nothing between us."

"I see. Then you won't mind if I tell him he needs to go back to Terebinthia."

"Don't you dare!" she said, her eyes fierce, and then she grinned. "All right, I'll behave myself. For now anyway. Just make sure you're not late for lunch."

She gave him a little wave and went back into Elain's room, shutting the door firmly behind herself. Glad to know that Elain was being taken care of by his sisters and their vast contingent of attendants, he made his way down to the training yard where Oreius had just dismissed the squadron of Sparrowhawks he had been drilling.

The Centaur made a deep bow. "Majesty."

Edmund looked around to make sure they were not overheard. "You have word from up the coast?"

"Just that things are as they should be and there is no sign of any threat. The High King and our Queen Consort have not been disturbed."

"Excellent. Now I need you to make a recommendation for me. I need to send one of your soldiers on an errand. I need one who can fly swift and straight and who can carry something over a distance. It's not something particularly heavy, but it has to be brought here safely. Is there someone you would recommend?"

Oreius considered for a moment. "Andor, the Eagle, would be the most suited to such a task, My King. He has proved himself most valiant in battle and faithful in everything I have asked of him."

"Very good. If you will–" Edmund noticed a pair of bright blue eyes peeping around one of the training dummies and forced himself not to smile. "– will, uh, send him to me in my quarters."

"At once, Majesty."

Oreius's expression had not changed the slightest bit, but Edmund was certain he was well aware he was being stalked. A golden-haired little Centaur filly, hardly more than a baby, did her wobbly best to creep up behind the General unnoticed.

"Thank you," Edmund said, biting his lower lip so he wouldn't laugh outright. "Now, I was wondering if you had seen–"

The filly gave Oreius's tail a tug and then, shrieking, tried to gallop away. Too quick for her, the General immediately caught her and lifted her off the ground as she squirmed and kicked all four legs, babbling and waving both arms as she did.

"I see," Oreius said sternly. "Well, you may tell that to your dam and see if she will think it excuse enough. Have you run away from her again?"

"I'm here." Demeter, the lovely Centauress who had come to Cair Paravel for Peter's wedding, came into the training yard, and the filly immediately reached for her with both arms.

Oreius put the little one on the ground and she ran to her mother.

The Centuaress took the filly by the hand and then, a touch of color in her ivory cheeks, she made a graceful bow. "I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. General. I did not mean for Celina to interrupt your conference."

"It is no interruption, Lady Demeter." Edmund returned the bow. "Oreius and I had just finished, and I must go see if I can find my Wolves."

"Who should be here guarding you, My King," Orieus said, his mouth in a disapproving line.

Demeter smiled shyly. "I pray you will not scold them, King Edmund, and nor will you, Oreius. They were trying to help me find Celina, and I think they were distracted by a Badger they saw in the garden."

"We found him!" Romulus ran into the training yard, panting happily. "We found him! We're sure he's a spy!"

"He must have gone out the back way," Remus said as he joined his brother, the fur on his nose and paws stiff with mud. "I dug up that whole flowerbed and didn't find him."

The two Wolves looked up at Edmund expectantly, and then, seeing his stern expression, they sunk down onto their haunches, tails between their legs.

"You dug up Queen Susan's flowerbed?" Edmund said. "Again?"

Remus cringed and somehow managed to sink lower to the ground.

"Shall I see to this matter, Majesty?" Oreius asked.

Edmund shook his head. "I'll take care of it. You'd better escort Lady Demeter back to her quarters."

Demeter bowed again and looked fondly at her foal. "I think it is time someone rested for awhile."

Oreius gave the Wolves a scathing glare, and then, his expression softening, he put Demeter's arm through his and led her out of the training yard.

"Oh, don't forget, Oreius," Edmund called. "Tell Andor I have an assignment for him."

"I shall not forget, Majesty," Oreius called back.

"An assignment?" Romulus asked, leaping to his feet, grinning with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. "Do you need me to do something?"

"He wants me to do it," Remus said, yellow eyes bright again. "Do you want me to find King Peter? I can find him. I will bring him back home."

" _We_ will bring him back home," Romulus said.

"You will _not_ bring him back home," Edmund snapped. "Neither of you is going to bother the High King or his Queen, am I understood?"

The two Wolves ducked their heads.

"Now come on," Edmund told them. "There's something I have to see to before lunch."

Romulus and Remus slunk beside him, not making eye contact.

"Listen," Edmund said, stopping and kneeling down to have his face level with theirs. "It's all right, okay? Peter is fine right where he is, and I'll talk to Susan for you. In fact, I'll send some of the Moles over there, and they'll put everything in the flowerbed back better than new and she'll never even know about it, okay?"

Romulus looked up hopefully.

"And thank you for trying to help Lady Demeter. That was very thoughtful of you."

Remus grinned and licked Edmund's face. "We like her. Do you think she and the General are going to have horse-puppies?"

Edmund half-choked himself trying not to laugh. "If you say that in front of Oreius, you'll never live to find out. Now come on."

 **Author's Note: Hmmm, lots going on this time. What do you think will happen next? If you would like to know more about Demeter and her little one, you might want to read my story** _ **Wind's Harvest**_ **. As confusing as it may seem, this chapter takes place before the events in** _ **A Little Sweetheart**_ **(though that Sweethearts' Day is coming up in this story, too) which is also about Demeter and Celina. I'd love for you to review.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Nine

After a brief stop to ask some of the Mole gardeners to put the flowerbed back to rights, Edmund sent his Wolves out to catch fish. They never actually managed to catch anything, but a good swim in the sea would tire them out so they wouldn't have so much energy for finding mischief to get into. Plus it was a good way to get them clean. Cleaner anyway.

Once they had run toward the beach, squabbling over which of them would bring back the most fish, Edmund went to meet with Andor. As Oreius had told him, the Eagle was the perfect choice for the assignment Edmund had in mind. He was large and well made, not old but experienced as a scout and a soldier, and he listened to his instructions intently, his keen eyes fixed on Edmund every second. Edmund gave him the appropriate message to take with him, and the Eagle made a precise bow.

"I will see to it at once, Your Majesty."

"Excellent. Speed is important, but security is foremost. I cannot have any mishaps, am I understood?"

"Certainly, Sire. I will not fail you."

Edmund commended him to the Lion and then watched as the Eagle spread his formidable wings and shot into the sun. He spent the rest of the morning seeing to some legal matters awaiting his official opinion, but there was really very little work to do. It was Christmastime yet as well as the celebration of the marriage of the High King, and the kingdom was in a holiday mood. So was the Just King.

He couldn't remember when there had been such serenity throughout Narnia. It certainly hadn't happened often. Peter was finally and happily married. Lucy and Darreth, as much as she tried to deny it, seemed to be headed the same way, and just now Edmund couldn't seem to convince himself to take exception. Even Oreius–

Edmund chuckled to himself over that one. The idea of the stern and straitlaced Centaur General paying court to anyone, much less to the shy and sensitive Centauress Demeter, seemed more than absurd. But then again, Edmund had seen glimpses, just here and there, mind you, of Oreius's very dry sense of humor and even his tender heart. The Mare could do worse. Much worse.

Little wonder Edmund was in a jaunty mood when he returned to Elain's chamber to escort her and his sisters to lunch. This time it was one of Susan's Peahen handmaids who came in answer to his knock.

Edmund made a low bow. "Good day, Iris. May I come in?"

The Peahen curtsied with a flutter of feathers. "The Queens your sisters and the Lady are awaiting you, Sire."

She stepped back to let him enter, and he found Susan and Lucy making last-minute adjustments to the lacings on their protégé's crimson-velvet sleeve. Seeing him, his sisters smiled and Elain made a deep curtsy, her own slight smile shy and utterly charming.

"I see the Mice have again done wonders," he said, bringing her hand to his lips.

"They were making this one for Susan," Lucy explained, "but it didn't take them long to make it fit Elain. Isn't it lovely?"

"Yes, sh– it is."

His sisters exchanged a smug glance over Elain's head, and he scowled at them. He was smiling when he turned to Elain again.

"Will you do me the honor, Lady?"

She curtsied, took the arm he offered, and they began walking. "That would be very kind, Your Majesty."

"Edmund," he told her, refusing to look at Susan and Lucy at all. "Please."

"Thank you, My Lord." She put one hand over her mouth, giggling. "Edmund, I mean."

"I hope you have no objections to meeting more of our subjects," he said as he escorted her and his sisters down to the Banquet Hall.

Elain's smile was suddenly wary. "If it pleases you, Your Majesty."

"I don't think you need worry, Lady," he told her. "These particular subjects aren't the least bit formidable. But I will let you judge for yourself. And, truly, I would like it very much if you were to call me Edmund. I'm not much for the titles outside of court matters."

"But you call me 'Lady,' and I have no title. My father was simply an apothecary."

"It is merely a courtesy," Edmund told her, a smile touching his lips. "Orieus would make us run the points of the compass if he thought my brother and I were being disrespectful to a lady."

"The points of the compass?" Elain asked with a puzzled smile.

"Cair Paravel has four main towers, East, West, North and South. When Oreius feels either of us is in need of discipline of one kind or other, he often has us run at top speed to the top of one tower and down and then to the next and the next and the next. We are truly fortunate if he requires us to do it only once."

"That seems like harsh punishment."

"Not really." Edmund smiled at her. "When we are in battle or, Aslan forbid, in full retreat, we are grateful he has taught us endurance along with so many other things."

"Like courtly manners," Elain said, her expression lightening.

"Like courtly manners. But, unless it is at some formal occasion, he won't mind if you call me by my name."

"But everyone–"

"Everyone calls us by our titles," Lucy piped up from behind them, "but it's nice sometimes to just be Lucy and Susan and Peter and Edmund. Especially in private."

"We don't see that many humans here," Susan added. "And few of them are ladies. We'd be very happy to have you visit just as a friend. No formalities needed."

"There. You see?" Edmund smiled at his sisters, glad they seemed to like Elain, too, and glad they were both so good at making strangers feel at home at Cair Paravel. "Now, here we are at our private dining room, and I'm very eager for you to meet our guests."

He pushed open the door, and the apprehension in Elain's expression changed to delight. "Oh, how sweet. These are Sir Elliot and Lady Emily's Kittens. They must be."

"They are."

The Kittens looked up at them, wide-eyed. Golden-furred Petie and black-and-white Eddie stopped their wrestling match near the window, Suzie, her pure-white fur not a hair out of place, stopped rearranging the silverware, and little tabby-striped Lulu looked down from a rather formidable height at the top of the curtain.

"King Edmund! Queen Susan! Queen Lucy!" she squealed. "Look! See! I got all the way to the top!"

"I told her she oughtn't," Suzie said primly. "If she falls, she'll just cry and then we'll have to go back to Mama without any lunch."

"I'm not going to fall," Lulu said, walking precariously along the curtain rod.

"Don't worry, Lu," Petie said. "I'll come get you."

"We'll save you," Eddie said, and they both started up the curtains as fast as their claws would take them.

Lulu looked down her pink nose at them. "I don't want you to save me."

"Petie," Edmund warned, "Eddie, don't–"

But it was too late. With her brothers tugging at the velvet curtain below her, Lulu lost her balance and, with a squeak, plummeted toward the marble floor.

"Lulu!" Lucy and Susan cried simultaneously, and Elain covered her mouth with both hands.

In one swift, nimble move, Edmund was at the window and just barely managed to catch the Kitten in his outstretched hands.

"Oh." Lulu blinked at him, her breath coming in quick little huffs. "Oh."

"It's all right, sweetheart," he said, cuddling her to his chest. "You can let go now. You're not going to fall."

She looked startled and then retracted the tiny claws that were buried in the flesh of Edmund's palms. "I'm s-sorry," she said, and then she started to sob.

"It's all right, sweetheart," Edmund murmured, touching his lips to her furry head. "It's all right. I've got you."

"I told you she'd start crying," Suzie said, and Susan put one finger to her lips, shushing her.

"Is she all right?" Lucy asked anxiously.

"Is she hurt?" Petie asked once he and Eddie had scurried down the curtain. "We didn't mean to make her fall."

Edmund winced and looked down to see that Eddie had climbed halfway up his leg and was looking up at him with half-wild blue-green eyes.

"She shouldn't have climbed that high. We wouldn't have let her if we'd seen." Eddie climbed higher until he was clinging to Edmund's arm and could see his little sister's tear-stained face. "Are you all right?" he asked her, and he leaned over and licked her nose. "Sure?"

Lulu nodded and managed a tiny smile. "Sure. Don't tell Daddy, okay? I don't want him to think I'm a 'fernal nuisance."

"I'm sure he won't," Edmund soothed. "Now, let's wipe your face." He took his handkerchief and did just that, "and you can meet our new friend."

He settled her in the crook of his arm. Then he detached Eddie, put him up on his shoulder, and finally turned to Elain.

"Lady Elain, this is Lulu and her brother Eddie."

The Kittens blinked at her, shrinking a little closer to Edmund.

"Hello," Elain said, her dark eyes warm.

"And this is Petie," Edmund told her, "and Suzie."

The white Kitten made a pretty, if somewhat wobbly, curtsy. "We are very pleased to meet you, Lady Elain."

"You are welcome to Cair Paravel, Lady," Petie said, adding a dashing bow.

Susan gave them an approving smile and then took her place at the table. "Why don't we all sit down and have lunch?"

Eddie was happy to jump down and settle himself next to a plate, but Lulu clung to Edmund. "I want to sit with you."

"You can, sweetheart," Edmund told her, and she hid her face against his neck.

Elain smiled at that, and he cleared his throat. No good having her think he was as great a sentimental ninny as Peter.

"I hope you will enjoy the meal, Lady," he said.

Her eyes shone as she looked over the sumptuous table laid with fine embroidered linens, golden cutlery, and bejewelled platters filled with rich dishes. "Everything is so lovely, and smells so delicious."

She stared at the pair of gossamer Naiads who came to serve them and then looked down at her plate, obviously unsure whether or not she had been rude.

"It took us a while to get used to everything here, too," Lucy said once the Naiads were gone. "And the Narnians all stared at us at first, too."

Still huddling close to Edmund, Lulu peeped at Elain. "Are you going to live here now, Lady Elain?"

"I– I'm not sure, Lulu. We'll have to see."

"Don't you like us?" the Kitten asked, looking up at her with big blue eyes. Edmund could have sworn she'd been taking lessons from Lucy.

"I like you very much," Elain assured her, and there was only warmth and delight in her expression. "I just can't tell what might happen yet."

Eddie looked up from the plate of trout he'd been devouring and tipped his head to one side. "We thought you were going to stay with King Edmund. Mama and Mrs. Eider were talking about it yesterday."

Edmund cringed.

"Eddie," Suzie scolded. "You know you're not supposed to repeat what anybody says, especially when you don't even know what you're talking about."

"Don't you like King Edmund?" Lulu reached up a little striped paw and patted Edmund's cheek. "Don't you think he's very nice."

"Oh, yes," Elain breathed, and then she turned a deep red. "I mean, he's been very kind, and I appreciate all that he and his sisters have done for me."

Edmund cleared his throat and glared at Lucy and Susan. They were definitely smirking. "Don't you think you ought to eat something, Lulu? There are sardines."

The Kitten's eyes widened, and she scampered across the table to Lucy who was filling a plate for her.

"I suppose Peter and Linnet will be back on Sixthday," Susan said smoothly, filling the ensuing silence. "It will be good to see them."

"Ahem, yes." Edmund turned his attention back to his own plate. "About time, too. There's plenty of work for Peter to– Ow! Eddie! Don't bite me."

The black-and-white Kitten looked up innocently, his sharp little teeth nipping Edmund's wrist. "I was just wondering if there was some cream."

"Of course there is," Susan said serenely, and she began pouring out some for all of the Kittens. "And it is very polite to ask rather than bite."

"But King Edmund was talking, and I didn't want to interrupt."

Suzie gave Susan a rather superior smile. "Interrupting is very impolite."

"If you interrupt," Petie said, "it's a 'fernal nuisance. That's what our daddy says."

Elain looked down at her plate, looking as if she wanted to giggle. Then she made the mistake of looking at Edmund and suddenly laughed aloud.

"Oh, I wish everywhere could be as wonderful as your Narnia. It grows more delightful by the hour."

"After we've eaten," Edmund said, "we'll go find Romulus and Remus and then go down to the docks and ask after your ship."

"What will you do if your ship doesn't come in with all the riches your father sent her for?" Lucy asked Elain. "Or if it does?"

Elain looked out the window and over the cold winter sea. Then she glanced at Edmund. "I don't know."

 **Author's Note: Okay, here's an extra-long chapter. I hope you like it. If you want to know more about the Kittens, you can read about them in my story _The Pouncepaws_. Your reviews (good or bad) always encourage me to write more.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Ten

When lunch was over and the Kittens had gone back to their mother for their afternoon naps, Edmund escorted Elain down to the beach. The water was cold and winter gray, but there was still a lovely view, the miles of sea out to the clear blue horizon, and the shining walls of the Cair above them.

"It's so beautiful," Elain said, her dark eyes shining. "Not that the desert doesn't have a loveliness of its own, but it's so bleak and hot. Narnia– It's just full of beauty and wonder wherever one looks. If the winter is this gorgeous, what must it be in spring and summer and fall?"

"Just as lovely," Edmund said, and hearing the delight and awe in her words, he felt his own love for his kingdom swell in his chest and make his heart beat harder. "It has a different sort of beauty every day, and no two exactly alike."

He sprang back, trying to shield himself with both hands from the sudden spray of water from Romulus's sodden fur.

"Hey!"

Elain giggled and ducked behind him as Remus came trotting up the beach from the water equally sodden.

"Stop it right there," Edmund ordered as he wiped his face with both hands, and the Wolves looked startled.

"What?" Remus said.

Romulus blinked, looking as if he were about to shake himself again. "Are you mad because we didn't catch any fish? We tried. We almost caught about a hundred."

Edmund steeled himself against their identical puzzled-but-eager-to-please expressions and pointed sternly. "Go over to the grass and dry yourselves off, and don't get more sand on you than you have to."

Heads low, the Wolves did as they were told.

Elain's expression held equal parts pity and amusement. "They try so hard."

Edmund bit his lip, trying not to smile, at least not enough for the Wolves to see him from the grass. "I know. Did they get you very wet?"

"Not at all." She offered him the dainty handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress. "But you need this."

"Thank you, but I won't spoil yours." He pulled out his own handkerchief, a much more capacious and useful one, and blotted his face and tunic. "Now, shall we go down to the docks? Or am I too terrible a sight to be seen in public."

She pushed back a wet lock of his hair and then blushed faintly. "I think you'll do."

She looked rather fetching when she blushed.

Edmund cleared his throat, realizing he was staring. "I, uh, that's the nice thing about the clothes here in Narnia. They look beautiful, but they're quite comfortable, too. And they aren't generally spoilt by everyday work and play. It doesn't hurt them in the least to run into a rainstorm."

"Or a wet Wolf," Elain said.

"Even that," Edmund agreed, smiling, "though, because of Romulus and Remus, some of the Hedgehogs who do our laundry are said to have been brought to tears."

"The poor things."

Edmund took her arm and they walked up to the grass at the edge of the beach. The Wolves had obviously forgotten they were out of favor with their boy and were evidently trying to see which of them could bite the other's tail first.

Edmund put his free hand on his hip. "Ahem."

Romulus looked up with a doggy grin, and Remus took advantage of his inattention by nipping the end of his tail. Romulus yipped and scowled at him.

"All right," Edmund said, feeling Elain's silent giggles beside him, "that's enough. If the two of you can behave for more than five minutes at a time, you may come along with us to ask about Lady Elain's ship."

"Do you have a ship?" Romulus asked, falling into step beside Elain.

"It really belonged to my father, but I . . . suppose it is mine now."

"I didn't know ladies had ships," Remus said, his shaggy head tilted to one side.

"Ladies can have ships if they want," Romulus told him. "Queen Lucy had a ship. The High King gave it to her."

"And it sank, didn't it?" Remus replied. "See?"

Edmund sighed. "I have tried, Lady Elain. Even Orieus can't make them remember to behave."

"I like them just as they are," she said, and the Wolves looked up at her in adoration.

"I think," Edmund said, "that you seem meant to be a Narnian."

At that she merely smiled, but her smile told him nothing.

Somehow they got back on the subject of Narnian clothing, and much to Edmund's surprise, he found himself telling her about the stifling, scratchy, uncomfortable clothing from the Other Place. He had always felt strange talking about his early life to anyone but his brother and sisters, not wanting the Narnians to think he was so very different than they were. Somehow, though, it felt quite natural to tell Elain some of what he remembered still. Not the bad things, of course, not the war and leaving his mother and wondering if his father had ever come home. Just the little things, things like elastic and tooth powder and the wireless. She seemed fascinated by all of it, and it seemed a very short walk indeed to get to the docks.

As usual, a number of ships had put in at Cair Paravel. Edmund dismissed the Calormene ones out of hand. They might be headed toward the islands, but it was more likely they went no farther than where they were right now. There was a little Terebinthian cruiser further on, but the crew there told him they had just come up to the Cair to take on some freight before heading down to Tashbaan. Finally Edmund spotted a Red Dwarf he recognized from a trip he'd taken to the Lone Islands the past summer. He and a crew of Dwarfs, Minotaurs, Satyrs and some rather sturdy-looking Fauns were loading several heavy boxes onto a platform to be lifted by a winch up to the deck.

"Yardrick!" Edmund called.

The Dwarf immediately swept the red cap off his head and stepped off the gangway. "Your Majesty. Well met, sir, well met." He bowed to Elain. "And a good day to your lady as well."

"She's not his lady," Remus said virtuously. "She doesn't have puppies or anything."

Romulus glared at him, and Elain gave Edmund a mischievous smile.

"This is Lady Elain from Archenland," Edmund told the Dwarf, refusing to look at either of the Wolves. "She is looking for news of _The Arabella_. Have you heard any news of her?"

Yardrick gave him a cheeky grin. "Of the lady or the ship?"

"The ship, you dolt. She was supposed to be coming back from the Seven Isles."

The Dwarf shook his head, one hand stroking the beard that was tucked into his wide belt. "I cannot recall having heard the name, Majesty, and begging the lady's pardon, I know of three or four that left port and never came back. This time of the year, the seas are not friendly to those who venture upon them. Even here at Cair Paravel, the Raven who stands my first mate tells me we are due some squalls. The Merfolk have gone to their deepest caves, and that's a sure sign of storms a-brewin'."

Elain gave Edmund a troubled glance, and he squeezed her arm a little more tightly just to reassure her.

"You have business further south?" he asked the Dwarf.

"This is as far as we go. One of our fine lords will have nothing less than Narnian marble for his manor house, and we're charged with getting it to him and not ending it up at the bottom of the sea."

"Oh." Edmund watched another box being loaded onto the ship. "That's you, is it? I knew we had traded some from the quarry near Cauldron Pool for a deal of wheat and barley."

"Aye, so it is. But I can tell you, sir, I'd not have been one of those who hauled this lot all the way from Chippingford, not for a year and a day of your best ale. Centaurs all, I hear, and a good thing. I don't know many others who'd've had the muscle for it."

"True enough. My General talked of many of his kin seeing to it, and none of them seemed to think it much of a load at all."

"I well believe it, sir, that I do."

They stopped talking and watched as, with one of the Minotaurs bellowing orders and the winch groaning under the strain, the platform rose up into the air. Edmund was admiring the smoothness of the operation when suddenly there was chaos. The sailors began to shout all at once.

"Look out there!"

"She's going!"

"Way down below!"

There was the thunder-crack of wood and the snap of ropes, the platform pitched sideways, and the crates tumbled off. Elain shrieked and Edmund grabbed her around the waist and flung her out of the way, shielding her body with his own. An instant later, there was only stunned silence. Just as quickly, there followed a jumbled roar of voices and the sound of running feet.

"Your Majesty!" Yardrick cried. "King Edmund!"

Edmund lifted his head and then looked down. Elain was lying beneath him, her mahogany eyes wide and her breath coming in little gasps.

"It's all right," he told her gently. "Are you all right? You're not hurt, are you? I–"

He broke off, realizing she was still pinned under him, her cheeks flushed, her red lips hardly an inch away from his.

"Is the lady all right?" Remus asked, sticking his nose in between them.

Edmund scrambled to his feet and helped Elain up, the blood burning in his face. "I beg your pardon, Lady. I would never intentionally be rough with you, but those crates–"

"You have nothing to apologize for." She gave him a trembling smile and began brushing dirt off of her dress. "Thank you. Thank you very much."

He took her arm again, very gently now, and looked down into her eyes. "You aren't hurt are you?"

She shook her head, her breathing still unsteady, but she said nothing more.

Yardrick twisted his cap in his hands. "It might be best if you took the lady away, sir. We've a right bit of work cleaning this lot up and getting the cargo aboard before the storm hits."

Edmund nodded. "I think you're right. But if you're headed back, do me the kindness to ask after _The Arabella_ wherever you dock, and send me word if you hear news."

"That I'll do, Your Majesty. You can take that as a promise." He made a graceless bow. "I beg pardon, Lady, for the fright we've given you."

Elain smiled, a little more steady now. "There is no harm done. And thank you for asking after _The Arabella_."

"You shall have word, Lady, the very moment we have anything to report."

The Dwarf bowed once more and then turned and began bawling orders to his crew.

"Sorry about that," Edmund said as they walked back to the Cair. "Good or bad, Narnia is never dull."

Elain laughed, sounding more like herself now. "I see that. But I have always thought one ought to live one's life rather than just watching it go by."

Edmund tucked her arm into his, thinking she looked all the prettier for her flushed face and rumpled dress and the little wisps of dark hair that had escaped her braid. "I think," he said once more, "that you seem meant to be a Narnian."

 **Author's Note: Sooo . . . what do you think now? I'd love to know. Reviews make me SO happy!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Eleven

On Seventhday, Edmund and Elain walked along the beach below Cair Paravel. It was early enough for the morning sun to still be sitting like a ball of fire at the horizon with its low rays turning the sea to molten gold. Somehow, night owl that he was, Edmund didn't mind the hour. The snow had fallen thick in the night and the Nor'wind air was cold, but the sky was clear and it was promising to be a beautiful day.

Edmund glanced back to where his Wolves were chasing Seagulls and being scolded in return by one particularly snappish female. The rest of the Gulls were swooping and squawking as the Wolves bounded up in futile attempts to catch their tail feathers.

"They've never got one yet," he said, shaking his head. "And I don't know what they would do with it if they did."

"I don't think Mrs. Kittiwake would let that happen anyway," she told him confidently, her dark eyes shining.

He stopped short. "You've met her?"

"Oh, yes. She was perched on my balcony when I woke up yesterday. I gave her some of my kippers and a blueberry scone and she brought me the loveliest seashell I've ever seen. And she begged my pardon and said to tell you that she would thank you very much if you would keep your Wolves away from her little ones, so as to not set a bad example."

Laughing only very softly, Edmund looked back again. Sure enough, there were three half-grown Gulls following Romulus and Remus around, bouncing up as if they couldn't fly and thoroughly affronting their elders.

"Romulus!" Edmund barked, forcing his expression into more dignified lines. "Remus! Come here at once!"

The Wolves ducked their heads and slunk to Edmund's side. The three young Gulls waddled after them.

"Your Majesty!" Mrs. Kittiwake called, her wings thrust out and turned over, looking for all the world like one of the neighbor ladies Edmund remembered from that Other Place standing with her hands on her hips. "If you please, Your Majesty!"

Edmund leaned down to the little miscreants. "You'd all better go back before your mother comes after us both."

The Gulls, in perfect imitation of their canine cronies, ducked their heads and, grumbling, waddled back to their mother. Elain consoled the Wolves.

"Next time," Edmund said sternly, "you two stay back at the Cair."

"But the General says we have to protect you," Romulus said indignantly.

"We have to make sure nobody gets you," Remus added.

Edmund didn't hurt their feelings by mentioning the two Gryphons and the Satyr that Oreius had sent to stand guard over them at the top of the bluff. "Then you'd better stop annoying the Gulls and pay attention."

"But how come we're here this early?" Romulus asked, yawning.

Remus nodded, yellow eyes bright. "We thought you didn't like to get up at the crack of stupid like King Peter does. Do you think Lady Linnet likes to get up at the crack of stupid?"

"Queen Linnet," Romulus corrected him sternly.

"But won't King Peter wake her up now?" Remus asked, his head tilted to one side. "I mean, won't they be sleeping in the same den? Now that she's his mate?"

Elain giggled.

"Remus," Edmund warned.

Elain took his arm. "Lucy said you wouldn't mind taking me here."

"I don't," Edmund assured her, remembering how her eyes had shone at dinner the night before when Lucy was describing sunrise on the beach. He hadn't even minded the smug looks his sisters had exchanged when he'd told Elain he'd love to take her to see the glorious sight for herself. "Not in the least."

"But she was right when she said how beautiful it is down here at dawn. Is there anyplace in Narnia that isn't gorgeous?"

"A few," he said, not liking to think of those particular places, "but not many. Remind me to take you to the Mermaid Grotto later in the year. It's really too cold and damp right now to be very nice."

"And we'd guard you better than Babur did King Peter," Remus said.

Elain's smile faded. "Is it dangerous? What happened?"

Edmund glared at the Wolf and then shook his head. "It was bad, I grant you, but the Grotto is generally very safe, and it's really beautiful when the water is warmer and the Merfolk come up to sing. Peter was just a nitwit and went off without his guard." He tucked Elain's arm more firmly under his. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

She smiled, but there was again that fear in her eyes, a fear he had noticed before.

He leaned a little closer. "Don't say anything aloud," he murmured into her ear, "but if you'll look up to the ridge above us, you'll see we're well guarded. Nothing is going to catch us unaware."

She looked up and then glanced over his shoulder, and her smile returned. This time there was a glint of mischief in it. "No, of course not." She put her other hand on his arm, holding him where he was. "How could anything get past you, Your Majesty?"

"Oh!" Romulus said, lifting his head, and Remus stood up, eyes widening.

"Now," Elain scolded playfully, "you two mustn't interrupt while I'm speaking to your King."

"They're as bad as the Kittens for interrupting," Edmund said, smiling into her eyes. "But, as I said, we are safe here. I don't want you to ever feel like anything can hurt you here, no matter what happens."

"Of course not."

She put one soft hand up to his face, and he couldn't possibly turn his gaze from her, from those sweet lips and mesmerizing mahogany eyes.

"I know things are different here," he said, "but we are well protected, too. You needn't worry about anything that might–"

A suffocating hand clamped over his mouth, and an iron-muscled arm caught him around the middle, pinning his sword arm to his side.

Elain took a step back and laughed.

 **Author's Note: Uh-oh.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Twelve

Edmund sighed and waited until the hold on him loosened.

"Come on, Ed. You're no fun."

Edmund turned to see Peter smirking at him and Linnet smiling at his side. "I knew it was you before you even got to the beach."

"Did not," Peter said.

"Well, I did as soon as you came up behind me." Edmund gave Elain an exaggerated scowl. "You're supposed to warn me when I'm about to be attacked, not try to keep me from noticing."

Elain giggled. "But you were so smug about nobody sneaking up on you, I couldn't resist."

"It's about time you two got back," Edmund told his brother. "Susan thought you were supposed to be back yesterday, and made this amazing dinner, but then Oreius told her you wouldn't be back until this afternoon. How'd you get away without an armed escort?"

Peter's smirk somehow got smirkier. "Because I, brother mine, know how to move as invisibly as a shadow on a dark night and as quietly as a mouse on a velvet pillow."

Elain giggled again, and Edmund raised one eyebrow. "Is that right?"

"We pretended we were going to the top of the keep to have one last hour alone before we had to come home," Peter said, "and then we sneaked out the back way. We circled around until we got to where those caves are up at Bearclaw Firth and went through those until we got to the path that leads through the forest and eventually back here." He put his arm around Linnet's waist, pulling her closer to him. "My lady didn't think we would make it without being seen, but I wasn't worried."

Edmund glanced at Elain and had to force himself not to grin. "And how do you think our General is going to like your little game, brother mine?"

Peter snorted. "Oreius? He won't know a thing about it. He can't be everywhere, you know, and we didn't have any trouble sneaking past umff–"

Peter was lifted about three feet off the ground, arms and legs flailing.

"I can," Oreius said serenely as he held Peter suspended over the sand, "be wherever I am most needed, Majesty."

Peter hung there like a kitten being grasped by the scruff of the neck. "Or– Oreius," he squeaked. "We didn't–" He swallowed hard and started again in a much more reasonable register. "We didn't see you."

The Centaur set him back on his feet, his expression grave. "I see you have forgotten your training in the past fortnight, High King. We will have to remedy that."

Peter smiled painfully, and Edmund again had to force himself not to laugh.

"I– I hadn't forgotten," Peter stammered. "It's just you're very good at not being seen or heard. If it had been anyone but you, I'm sure I . . . "

He trailed off as Oreius gave him a singularly dubious look and then stepped back to reveal that an entire squadron of his soldiers accompanied him.

Peter reddened.

"There are . . . measures that must be taken," the General said, his usually humorless face positively dour. "Extensive measures."

Edmund's smile faded. If he knew Oreius, those "measures" would not be limited to the High King only.

"But, Oreius," he protested. "I didn't–"

"You allowed yourself to be overtaken as well, King Edmund." The Centaur glanced at Elain. "Even the most provoking distraction is no excuse for laxness."

Elain giggled, and Edmund sighed. All hope that the General's own provoking distraction would make him even slightly more merciful was completely and without hope of resurrection dead. Perhaps if Lady Demeter and her little filly were finally persuaded to stay in Cair Paravel, Oreius might forget this little incident. Again Edmund sighed. As if that would ever happen.

Peter squirmed under the General's stern gaze. "When did you realize we were headed back to the Cair?"

"Captain Bondir informed me the moment you left the keep this morning."

"But–" Peter glanced back at the Gryphon standing at attention with the rest of Oreius's men and then exhaled heavily. "Well done, Captain."

"Majesty," Bondir said, making a crisp salute with one golden wing.

Linnet squeezed a little closer to her husband of only a few days, something between a teasing laugh and a soothing caress in her gray eyes, and Peter grinned at her.

"At least we had fun trying, love."

Edmund relaxed, too. "I can tell you two enjoyed your trip without my asking." He swatted Peter's shoulder and then bent over Linnet's hand with a gallant kiss. "It's good to have you back, though you have a lot to tell the girls. They've been fidgeting me since the wedding to tell them where you were going. When they find out you've been just up the coast all this time, you're the one who's going to have to deal with them, not me."

"You're a brick, Eddie." Peter returned the swat. "I knew we could trust you. And forgive me, Lady." Peter made a dashing bow to Elain. "I did not mean to neglect greeting you as well. I fear my Queen and I have had little time to become acquainted with you since your arrival, but we hope to remedy that as much as possible now."

Elain curtsied in return. "I feel I have been an intrusion, appearing uninvited as I did on the day of Your Majestys' wedding, but Ed–" A becoming shade of pink touched her cheeks. "King Edmund, I mean, said it would not be too inconvenient–"

"What I said," Edmund told his brother, "is that the two of you wouldn't notice if I brought along a friend."

"No, you didn't," Remus put in. "You said King Peter was so twitterpated about his bride, he wouldn't even know the lady was there. Or you were there either."

Romulus nodded helpfully. "We heard him when we were coming in from catching rabbits."

Peter laughed at that. "One thing you may always depend upon, Lady Elain, is that my brother will speak to you the truth as he knows it."

Elain's smile faltered slightly, but she smiled still.

"Turns out he was absolutely right, too," Peter said. "My lady and I will do our best to make it up to you now. Mostly due to the Queens my sisters, the residents of Cair Paravel are known for their hospitality, and I would not have you think her High King the one graceless oaf in the lot."

"Oh, no, my lord, I have had only kindness and welcome from everyone here, and one could hardly expect a bride and groom to have eyes for any but each other."

"You are all graciousness, Lady," Peter said with another bow.

"And she doesn't mind if we say stuff on accident," Remus said, looking on Elain with eyes of doggy adoration.

"A definite virtue," Peter said.

"A positive necessity," Edmund added.

"General!" one of the Eagles in the squadron shrieked out. "I can see one of my kind approaching from the south. It is Lieutenant Andor."

Finally. Edmund glanced at Elain, watching her as, with the others, she tried to spot the approaching Eagle. A moment later, Andor appeared, circling downward and downward, what looked like a small, closed basket carried in his talons.

"King Edmund!" he called. "Well met, My Lord King! Greetings, High King, and to your Queen."

He glided overhead and Edmund took the basket from him so he could land.

"All went well?" Edmund asked him and the Eagle bowed.

"Without mishap, My King, just as you desired. And there is also a message for you. A greeting from the Majesty of Archenland."

Edmund smiled. Now they were getting somewhere. "Excellent. You are dismissed with our thanks, Andor."

The Eagle made a military bow, saluted his General, and immediately went to join his fellow soldiers. Just like Oreius, Edmund considered. Indeed, if Andor had no wings and two more legs, he would _be_ Oreius.

"I trust we can be allowed to walk back to the Cair without full escort," Edmund said to Oreius.

The General bowed. "Given the penchant you and your brother have for getting into mischief even this close to home, I should probably not allow it, but if that is Your Majesty's wish, let it be so."

He dismissed his men, but only, Edmund was sure, to some less-obvious posts all along the path leading back home.

"What is it, Ed?" Peter asked, and Linnet looked at him inquisitively.

The Wolves sniffed at the basket and frowned.

"Why did you send for that, King Edmund?" Romulus asked.

Remus huffed. "Don't we have enough already?"

"Hush," Edmund said. "This one is very special." He smiled into Elain's eyes and held out the basket to her. "This is for you, Lady. I very much hope it will please you."

With a puzzled smile, she took it from him and opened it. Tears immediately filled her eyes.

"Adina. Oh."

A dainty tabby cat with white legs and a white muzzle looked up at her with frightened green eyes and then gave a piteous cry.

"Oh, my poor little love." Elain pulled her out of the basket and cuddled her close. "Poor baby. It's all right now. It's all right." She looked at Edmund, her cheeks and lips flushed, her smile trembling. "You found her for me."

"I hope you are pleased."

She opened her mouth and then shut it again, only able to shake her head, and then she hid her face against the cat's side, sobbing a little.

"Come along now, love," Peter told Linnet quietly. "We might as well face Susan and Lucy now as later." He looked down at Romulus and Remus. "You'd both better come, too. We may need you to protect us."

The Wolves bounded eagerly ahead, and the High King and his Queen Consort followed.

Edmund merely stood there, watching Elain, wanting to put his arms around her and let her cry even though he knew he must not.

Finally she looked up again. "I'm sorry." She dashed one hand across her eyes. "I don't mean to be so foolish, but I was sure I would never see her again."

"It's not foolish at all," he assured her. "It must have been very difficult for you to leave her behind. What did you say her name is?"

"Adina." She managed a smile. "She was born in our house, but her mother died, so I had to keep her fed and warm. I've missed her so much." She pressed her lips to the top of the cat's head and received a happy nudge in return. "My sweet Adina."

"I'm glad I could get her back for you."

She was making soft, soothing sounds against the cat's ear, not paying attention to him at first, and then her eyes widened. "I'm so sorry. I haven't thanked you. I haven't thanked you at all, and you've been so wonderful."

"Not at all. I just–"

Without warning, she grabbed his hand and leaned up to kiss his cheek. Then, blushing fierily, she ran up the path to the Cair.

It was payment enough.

 **Author's Note: I'd love to know what you think. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Thirteen

Edmund watched as Elain flitted out of sight, his hand pressed to his cheek, feeling still the brief touch of her lips against his skin. He was a madman. There was no other explanation. It hadn't been a real kiss, nothing like that. She might have kissed her father that way. Her grandmother. Why had it gone through him like a crack of lightning? Truly, he was a madman.

He stood there a moment more, still clutching the basket Andor had used to fetch her cat from Archenland, and then he drew a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. He couldn't stand about all day mooning over someone who, in all likelihood, thought of him as no more than a friend who had shown her a few kindnesses. It was far too early to expect or even consider anything more. Besides, there had been more in that basket than a frightened little tabby cat.

"A greeting from the Majesty of Archenland," the Eagle had said. And more than that, if things had gone as planned. Much more. Edmund waited until he reached the privacy of his study before breaking the seal on the message.

It was indeed from King Lune, styled with his many titles and then Edmund's, which took up most of the page, finally ending with "Our Beloved and Esteemed Brother-King of Narnia, Greeting and the Blessing of the Great Lion and His Father, the Emperor-beyond-the-Sea."

Edmund paused there and then plunged ahead.

 _My operatives were able to find surprisingly little about the young woman in question. She is from the village of Alderly Abbas, in the far west of my kingdom, south of Deerfield and near our border with Calormen. Her father was one Connor Leighford, apothecary and widower, who died a few weeks ago, after which the young woman left her home and did not return. The cat was found in the care of a former servant of the family who had been well paid to look after it. This woman, by the name of Maggie, was unable or unwilling to give any kind of information beyond what we had already in hand. She said her mistress had gone and she knew no more of it. She was reluctant to relinquish the animal for entreaty or reward, but only by royal command and with the assurance that no harm would come to the creature. Inquiries in the village, chiefly at the local inn,_ The Fat Duck _, were singularly unhelpful. There were several mentions of a visitor to the apothecary's house from across the border, but the reason for such visits seems unclear. It was said by all that Leighford had been very successful in his trade as well as prudent with his earnings, so whether the visits were in regard to a trading venture the apothecary had undertaken or a desire for medicinal consultations or, as some said, an offer for the hand of the girl, no one can say. The only report is that, when her father died, she went away in the company of a hired escort and did not return. There was little more my agents could find that was in any way remarkable._

Edmund sighed, skimming over the lengthy request that the King of Archenland be commended to his Royal Brother and Sisters who, along with Edmund himself, might call upon King Lune's aid and succor unto the half of his kingdom. Again the blessing and keeping of the Great Lion was invoked, and there the missive ended.

Frowning, he read it over again. He already knew most of this, but he didn't much like the part about–

A knock at his door broke his train of thought.

"Come in."

An uncertain looking Leopard, scarcely more than a cub, peered into the room. "I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but there is a lady who has requested to see you."

"A lady?"

"The lady Your Majesty brought from Archenland, if it pleases you, My Lord. What answer shall I give her?"

"Tell her to–" To come in, he had almost said, but he had stopped himself. It wouldn't do to meet with her alone, even innocently. That would be sure to set tongues wagging, especially his sisters'. "Where is she at present, Vesa?"

"In the corridor below, Majesty, awaiting your answer."

"Tell her I will attend her in the garden."

The Leopard bowed. "At once, Sire."

Edmund took Lune's letter and locked it in his desk. Then he stopped for a moment before his looking glass. There was a touch of mockery in the face that looked back at him. How many times had he jeered at Peter for worrying over his appearance when he was about to spend time with his now-Queen? Truly, he was a madman.

It didn't matter. No amount of reason would have kept him from hurrying down to the garden anyway.

Elain was waiting there for him. She looked as if she had taken time to smooth her wind-whipped hair and straighten her dress and cool the blush from her cheeks. The tabby cat was seated on the marble bench beside her, not quite certain of its surroundings but content enough. It tensed slightly as Edmund approached, but Elain put one soothing hand on its head, speaking low comfort to it until it settled again.

Edmund made a courtly bow. "Good day, Lady. I was told you wished some talk with me."

"I do, Your Majesty." She lowered her eyes and almost-imperceptibly bowed her head. "I wish to beg your pardon, My Lord."

Surprised by the confession, he almost laughed, but he could see she was in dead earnest. "For what?"

"It was . . . very bold of me, My Lord, to presume to be so familiar with Your Majesty as I was a short while ago. In Archenland, it is not considered proper for a lady of any consequence to forget herself with any gentleman, much less with so esteemed a personage as the Just King of Narnia. I cannot tell what Your Majesty must think of me after so brazen a display."

"I'm sure," he said gravely, "that you only did it on accident."

She glanced up, looking as if she might burst into tears. Seeing the humor in his expression, she burst into giggles instead.

"I'm sure your General was scandalized. And all of his men."

"Perhaps they were, but it's not very likely. Narnians are far more likely than Archenlanders to express themselves openly, especially in a moment of intense emotion."

She looked from under her long lashes at the cat who still sat beside her, and she stroked the back of its striped head. "You don't know what it meant to me for you to bring her here."

"I think I do."

She turned her eyes up to his again, and now they were brimming with tears. "You mustn't be so kind to me, My Lord. Not if you expect me to remember the propriety that ought to be observed by a lady of Archenland."

"I think," he said gently, "I am willing to take the risk. Lady Linnet, my new sister and Queen, is always a model of decorum, and yet there is nothing about her that is stiff and formal. She is like my sisters in that, and now we are hard pressed to remember she is not Narnian born." He let the hint of a smile touch his lips. "Her maid, Ada, sometimes despairs of her, but even she has come to realize that there is nothing unbecoming a lady in our Narnian ways."

There was a bit of added color now in Elain's cheeks. "It's just that I would never wish to lose Your Majesty's good opinion."

"That would be quite difficult, Lady, especially for such a cause as you fear. There was only sweet and unspoilt gratitude in you there on the beach. How can I possibly think ill of that?"

She drew a deep breath, her heart all in her eyes as they fixed on his. "I still can never thank you enough." She picked up the cat and cuddled it close. "How did you find her? How did you know?"

"Archenland isn't so big that, with the help of King Lune and his people, we couldn't figure out where she was."

Elain looked away, focusing on the cat now. "I– I could have told you where she was, if you had only asked."

"I have not wished to press you, Lady. You have no obligation to me or to anyone here. You are free to come and go as you please and to tell as much or as little of yourself as you think right."

"I suppose you've had a report of me and my family then." Her voice was low, hardly more than a whisper, and still she did not meet his eyes.

"Little that you have not yourself told," he said. "And if there is more I should know, I will trust you to tell it when the time comes."

She said nothing for the longest time, merely sitting with her face pressed to the cat's side as it lay purring in her arms. When she looked up again, she seemed to have hidden herself behind a mask of formality.

Her cat still clutched against her, she made a deep curtsy. "Whatever the future may bring, Adina and I will never forget your kindness."

With that, she gathered up her skirts and hurried out of the garden and into the Cair.

He stood there for a long moment, not knowing what to think. Had he said something to offend her? Or perhaps she had been afraid that talk of her past would lead to questions too painful to answer. About the death of her father? About leaving home? Maybe his comment about Linnet's maid, Ada, had reminded Elain of this Maggie who had been entrusted with Elain's beloved Adina. Elain's own mother had been dead some while. Had Maggie in some ways taken her place? What was it that caused her pain when she thought back to the life she had left behind? And why did she seem so uninterested in returning?

He exhaled heavily. He had no answers for any of this. He had no evidence that she was anything but grateful for his help and kindness. No matter how long ago it seemed now, it had been only a few days since she had stolen into that cave in the mountain pass between Archenland and Narnia. Did he really imagine that in so short a time there could be more than the most superficial of friendships between them?

He had seen more beautiful ladies, ladies from all the lands, human and not human, fascinating, elegant, refined, coquettish, alluring. There had been those who had drawn him, those he, by force of will and with Aslan's help, had managed to resist. There had been others who had been ideal choices for Queen Consort, of the finest family, of noble and even royal blood, gracious and serene, trained from birth to step into such a role. Many of these he had counted and still counted as friends and allies, but none of them had for more than a moment caught his fancy. None of them had taken his heart like the mahogany-eyed girl from Archenland.

Truly he was a madman.

He needed to talk to Peter.

 **Author's Note: It would make me so happy if you would review. :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Fourteen

By the time Edmund made his way back into the palace, he saw Elain and her cat being hurried in the opposite direction by his sisters and sister-in-law and a variety of their ladies in waiting. He couldn't remember if Susan had mentioned that there would be another session today with the Mice to fit more of Elain's new wardrobe, but the way the girls were chattering away, that seemed likely. If not, whatever it was, he was glad to see Linnet was with them. That meant there was a decent chance that he might find Peter alone.

He went up to his brother's study and peeked around the open door. Peter was sitting at his desk, scowling at the paper he was writing on, his left hand twisted into his tawny hair in obvious frustration. What in the world was the dolt doing?

As silently as Oreius's intensive training had enabled him to do, Edmund crept up to the desk to see what Peter was working on.

 _Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?_ he had written. _Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the lovely buds of May, and summer's time hath all too short a date. Sometime–_

"Darling buds," Edmund murmured right next to his ear.

The quill jerked, leaving a black slash across the page.

"Edmund! How did you get there?"

"Obviously, Oreius is going to have to do some extra awareness training with you. Tsk, tsk, tsk."

"You wouldn't dare tell him."

Edmund grinned. "You're not really daring me, are you, brother mine? Really?"

Peter glared at him.

"And it's 'darling buds,'" Edmund said. "'Darling buds of May.'"

Peter's scowl deepened, but he scratched out "lovely" and substituted "darling."

"And it's 'summer's lease,'" Edmund added helpfully, "not 'summer's time.'"

Peter grumbled and fixed that one, too.

"What exactly are you doing?" Edmund asked.

Peter turned the paper over, color creeping into his face. "Nothing."

"You were going to give that to Linnet, weren't you."

"Maybe," Peter said, his tone defiant.

Edmund grabbed the paper, reading it over, and then he looked at Peter, pretending to be scandalized. "You were going to tell her _you_ wrote this, weren't you. Why you rogue, you! You absolute cheat!"

"I was not!" Peter snatched the paper back. "I was only trying to remember how it goes so I could tell it to her. Do you know how long it's been since we had Shakespeare in school?"

"Too long," Edmund said with a chuckle. "I don't think we'd got to it in my class, though I do remember Mum and Dad reading us the nicer bits and teaching us some of the poems."

"You obviously remember it better than I do."

"Just the first bits," Edmund admitted. "I'm not so sure about the rest. I was mostly keen on Henry the Fifth."

"Help a chap out, eh? I can never think of the right things to say to her, and I want her to know, I mean, I want, she's . . . " Peter bit his lip, blue eyes pleading.

"She knows," Edmund assured him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "I promise she does."

One side of Peter's mouth turned up, and he laid the paper on the desk again. "Maybe between the two of us we can figure it out?"

"All right." Edmund sat on the corner of the desk. "The next part is about 'the eye of heaven.'"

"Right."

 _Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines_ , Peter wrote, _and often is_

"Something dimmed," he said, frowning again. "Rhymes with 'nature's changing course untrimmed.'"

"Come back to that."

"All I can remember now," Peter admitted, "is the 'but thy eternal summer shall not fade' bit."

"'Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest,'" Edmund added. "Better write those down before we forget them, too, you great sop."

Peter smirked. "Pot, meet kettle."

Edmund began to huff in protest, and then he winced. "That obvious, is it?"

"I'm afraid so, brother mine, but don't sit there looking like it's a sentence of death. Speaking from personal experience, I cannot recommend the married state highly enough."

Edmund sighed. "But that's just it. You and Linnet are married. You know that she loves you, that she's not just a particularly nice girl who's kind to you and grateful for your help."

Peter threw back his head and laughed.

Edmund pressed his lips together. "I'm glad my situation is so amusing."

"Now, that's not at all why I laughed. Ed. Come on." Peter jostled him with his shoulder. "But if I tell you what it was, you must swear before Aslan and upon your honor as a knight and King that you will never repeat it to anyone, especially the girls."

Edmund couldn't hold back a grin at the humor in his expression. "You have my word."

"I was such a dunderhead before Linnet and I were engaged, I never realized all the ways she tried to let me know she cared for me. Even when she practically came right out and said it, I didn't catch on. When she told me the fellow she loved was far above her, since she was just the daughter of a Duke, I said in that case he must be a King. She said he was, and I thought she meant Lune."

Edmund snorted. "Lune? Surely you didn't tell _her_ that. Tell me you didn't say that to her."

Peter winced. "I'm afraid I did. And when she finally came right out and told me I was the one she meant, I remember thinking how you'd laugh at the idiotic expression that was no doubt on my face just then."

"I'm sure I would have, but there was rather a lot going on at the time. I know your mind was on other things."

"And in other places," Peter said gravely.

Edmund nodded, not really wanting to revisit those dark times. "But I don't blame you for being unsure sometimes."

"Ladies from Archenland aren't always as direct as the ladies from Narnia," Peter said, smiling again. "But once they've gone so far as to let you know their feelings, they are truly in earnest."

"But how do you know?"

Peter shrugged. "You don't, I suppose. Not till one of you takes that first step and speaks up."

"But what if I'm–"

"What if you're wrong?" There was a particularly understanding warmth now in Peter's eyes. "I don't think you're wrong, Ed. At least not from what I've seen. It's much more than kindness and gratitude, at any rate."

"But we've known each other for such a short time."

"I'm not saying you should marry her tomorrow. There's no need to rush into anything. But there's no need to dismiss the idea either."

"Now you sound like Philip."

"Philip is a very wise Horse," Peter said. "One of the best things Aslan ever did was have him look after you."

"Him and Susan," Edmund grumbled.

Peter hugged one arm around his shoulders. "You're going to survive this, brother mine. I promise you. The lady obviously enjoys your company. Just keep being her friend and protector and get to know her more. Let her get to know you."

Edmund frowned.

"I know you don't care much for that part, Ed, but I promise you it's worth it. If you never open up yourself to hurt, you'll never open up yourself to love either."

Edmund lifted one eyebrow. "You never came up with that on your own."

Peter grinned, reddening slightly. "That's another good thing about being married. Wives often have very helpful things to say."

Edmund chuckled.

"Anyway, just give it time. If Lady Elain is the right one for you, she's not going anywhere. Sweethearts' Day is coming up. Convince her to let you escort her to that. Maybe by then you'll know more about how she feels. Maybe by then you'll know what you ought to do."

Sweethearts' Day was only a few weeks away. Surely there would be news of _The_ _Arabella_ by then, and Elain would have a better idea of the plans she wished to make. And whether they included one Edmund Pevensie.

 **Author's Note: If you're curious about what Peter's talking about regarding Linnet, it's in my story** _ **The Ciaramella**_ **. I'd love to know what you think of Edmund's conversation with Peter.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Fifteen

"I need to know," the Gentle Queen said in a very controlled voice, "so we can arrange for something suitable for her to wear."

The weeks between Christmas and Sweethearts' Day were always very busy at Cair Paravel. Susan was extremely particular about what everyone wore to the grand ball, not only the color scheme, usually strictly limited to pink, red and white, but the proportion of each color and how each was to be complimented by the lavish decorations in the Great Hall.

"She can wear that red thing she had on when we went to the docks," Edmund said. "It's nice."

Susan scowled at him. "It's totally wrong. I should have known before I let the Mice fit it for her."

"Wrong? How is it wrong? It's fine."

"You'll never understand. She's already worn it once, and out to the docks as well. How can she wear it now to any grand occasion? Besides, with that reddish touch to her hair, reds and pinks don't look right on her. You want her to look pretty, don't you?"

"She does look pretty."

Susan's mouth turned up the slyest little bit.

"What?" Edmund protested. "She's pretty. Why should I be embarrassed to say so. You're pretty. Lucy's pretty. Elain's–"

She tapped his cheek with one slender finger. "On you, however, red is absolutely darling."

He pushed her hand away, knowing his face was hot. There was no escaping it. No matter what he said, it seemed everyone in Narnia knew how smitten he was. Well, fine. He was.

He had to struggle to keep his expression serious. No doubt any smile of his just now would end up being just like the disgustingly sappy one that was always on Peter's face when Linnet was around. Or if he was talking about Linnet. Or if someone happened to mention Linnet's name.

"You know our agreement," he told Susan, ignoring her real implication. "Peter and I will wear red if we must, but not pink. Not in any shade or configuration."

Susan pursed her lips. "Pink is merely light red you know."

"I don't care. You just keep your part of the bargain. We'll wear whatever you pick for that one night only, right? But no pink and no lace."

"Edmund–"

"Don't make me do what I did the last time you tried that."

Susan pursed her lips. "You were eleven."

"And I can still act like I'm eleven if I need to."

"You mean like now?"

He grinned, and she huffed at him. "Fine. No pink. No lace. But that still doesn't answer my question. Are you going to ask her or not?"

"What difference does it make?" he said. "You're going to invite her. She'll have to wear something that fits with your decorations. Just have the Mice make whatever you think is best. What does it matter if I ask her or not?"

"Edmund!"

"Okay, okay. I know. If we're a couple, then you'll dress us in something that makes it hideously obvious that we are, like you've done Peter and Linnet for the past couple of years."

"Peter doesn't seem to mind."

"Peter." Edmund shook his head. "As long as Linnet's around, Peter wouldn't notice if you dressed him in roller skates, a tutu, and a big hat with fruit on it."

Susan drew herself up, her expression icy. "Fine. Wear whatever you want. Wear all black. Wear your riding boots. Better yet, wear your armor. Maybe you could have a battle axe or two strapped to your back. It is the Day of Love after all."

"Aw, come on, Su." He grabbed her hand before she could flounce away. "I'll behave, I promise. And, yes, I am going to ask Elain if she'll come with me to the ball. I can't guarantee she'll say yes, of course, but I'm going to ask her. So you make your plans however you want, and I'll try not to be such a brat. How's that?"

She looked haughtily away from him, giving him no answer.

"I'm very sorry," he said, making his expression remorseful and pleading all at once. "Won't you forgive me?" He clasped her hand fervently to his heart. "Please?"

She glanced over at him and her lips twitched. "You know, someday those big eyes are not going to work on me."

He gave her a look of horror. "Perish the thought."

She shook her head. "You really are still eleven, aren't you."

"As often as I can get by with it."

To his surprise, she cupped his face in both hands and smiled into his eyes. "You don't know how glad I am to see you this way."

For a moment he couldn't think of anything to say, and then he laughed faintly and pulled away from her, knowing the color had come into his face again. "What way?"

"Oh, I don't know. Relaxed. Having fun." She kissed his cheek. "Happy."

"Su–"

"You don't have to deny it. I won't tell anyone."

"Ridiculous," he muttered.

"Go on now," she told him. "Go ask Elain if she'll go with you. I know she'll say yes."

Edmund wasn't at all as certain as his sister, especially once he and Elain were alone. As a pretext, he had invited her to see the Cair's great library. He loved seeing her eyes light up when she saw the shelves that went from floor to ceiling, two storeys high and on every wall of the cavernous room.

"Oh. I've never seen so many books in my life. They're wonderful."

"I think so," he said, but the smile that touched his lips had not been a result of his love for books.

She turned to him abruptly and, seeing it, flushed slightly and took a book from the nearest shelf. "Have– have you read this one? I've always thought it was a lovely story."

He looked at the title and raised one eyebrow. " _Giants and Their Ways_? Is it popular in Archenland?"

"Oh." Her blush deepened and she fumbled with the book, almost dropping it when his hand touched hers as she tried to put it back on the shelf. "I– I thought it was a different one."

"The print is rather small, isn't it," he said, choosing not to point out that the letters on the cover were at least two inches high. "I don't think we'd have got through these past few years in Narnia without all these books, that one in particular. There's so much to know, and some really dire consequences for being uninformed."

There was a touch of pity in her expression. It was somehow very becoming.

"I've heard that Narnia has had many wars with the Giants. You and your brother must have suffered much at their hands."

Edmund didn't like to think on that. Not now. "They're not all of them bad. Some are quite nice, in fact. The Buffins, have you met any of them?"

She shook her head, amusement now in her eyes. "I think I'd remember."

"You'd definitely remember. They're fine fellows though. Salt of the earth. Remind me to take you to meet Bramblebuffin sometime soon. You'll like him."

She looked interested, not afraid. "Then I'm sure I'd like to meet him."

"You amaze me."

She laughed. "I do?"

"Somehow, coming to Narnia for the first time, meeting me and my family, my overprotective Horse, my arguably insane Wolves, a whole slew of talking Animals and Magical Creatures, you never seem afraid of things, maybe just startled for a minute or two. Even Peter, who is often quite stupidly brave, took a little while to get used to everything. You remind me a bit of Lucy who's always friends with everyone if she can be. She took to the place like a duck. But then," he said, reaching for Elain's hand, "she was meant to be here."

Elain pulled away, laughing again, but now there was wariness in her eyes. It was a stupid thing to do. She was from Archenland. No doubt it made her nervous to be here alone with him with not even a maid for chaperone. Perhaps he should send for this Maggie that had once looked after her. He'd have to talk to Linnet about that. Being from Archenland, she would know best about such matters. Until then, he'd have to be more careful. He didn't want to make her think there was anything dishonorable in his intentions.

He cleared his throat, steadying himself. "You are, of course, welcome to read any of these that you like. Even the one about Giants."

That brought the humor back into her expression. "I'm sure it would be fascinating reading. But I think I'd prefer some kind of a story rather than a factual treatise. Is there one you would recommend?"

"Ah, for those, you'd probably better ask Lucy or Susan. There is a book of Narnian tales they both like very much, but I'm certain one or the other of them has it in her own quarters. Uh, speaking of Susan, she was, um, telling me about a ball she is planning."

"A ball, My Lord?"

"We always have one for Sweethearts' Day. It was something they began in the time of King Frank the First, and we have upheld the tradition. It is Susan's favorite celebration, and she is very particular about what everyone wears to it."

"Oh." Elain looked down. "I suppose she asked you to, very politely of course, see that I don't come since I really don't have anything suitable–"

"Of course not. She really wanted to know if she could have something made especially for you for the ball, because she wouldn't dream of not having you there."

The loveliest of smiles touched her lips. "Truly?"

"Very truly," he said. "And, if it is not too bold of me to ask, I would very much like to escort you that night."

She looked down again, her long dark lashes brushing her flushed cheeks. "I would never presume–"

Her eyes flew open when he took her hand and bowed over it.

"My– My Lord–"

"It would be no presumption," he said, his voice low and caressing, "but my very great honor."

He looked up at her, lifting his eyes but not his head, and she blinked back at him, her soft lips quivering.

"I would–" She took a little hitching breath. "I would l-like that very much, My Lord."

He brushed the back of her hand with his lips, and she pulled it away from him, cradling it over her heart, her eyes impossibly wide now.

"I– I think we should probably go in to tea, My Lord. I think it's four o'clock, is it not?"

He'd been too bold already. He didn't dare take her arm. He bowed instead.

"I believe it is. And you'll want to speak to my sister about your new gown."

She smiled at that, and he escorted her out of the library. Maybe this Sweethearts' Day wouldn't be so unbearable after all.

 **Author's Note: So, he's taken the first step. What do you think? If you're wondering about Edmund's first Sweethearts' Day, you can read about it in my story** _ **After a Fashion**_ **. Enjoy! And if you really want me to keep writing, please leave a review. It's what I live for. ;)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Sixteen

The Sweethearts' Day Ball at Cair Paravel was always a grand event, and Susan and her minions had truly outdone themselves this time. The long tables sparkled with candlelight and the gleam of gold and silver tableware. The great hearth fire crackled and blazed, dancing to the sound of panpipes and drums and stringed instruments of all descriptions and the voices of Naiads and Dryads and a chorus of Animals great and small. The walls were festooned with garlands of roses, white, red, and pink, nestled in glossy green leaves. Having roses when there was no less than a foot of snow on the ground was a feat of magic that the Gentle Queen somehow worked every year, though perhaps their presence was due to the efforts of some of the more accomplished Dryads rather than to magic itself. Edmund took a deep breath and smiled slyly. That was another wonder Susan managed at every ball and, for that matter, every occasion of any size or importance: a banquet that would shame King Solomon.

"Is that venison?" Romulus asked, lifting his shaggy head to sniff the air.

"And rabbit and quail!" Remus said with a lolling tongue and a doggy grin. "Can we get some, King Edmund? Can we?"

"Not until they start serving," Edmund told him, patting him in consolation. "And you have to let the guests go first."

The Wolves' heads drooped, and Edmund had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "I promise you there will be plenty. Don't worry."

"And pie?" Remus asked, his yellow eyes bright and eager once more. "I smell mince pie."

"Yes, pie, too. Just don't make yourselves sick or the General will make you run laps again like he did after you fell asleep after Peter's wedding."

Romulus gulped and Remus whined faintly.

Edmund looked around the great hall. Oreius was there in the middle of the swirl of guests in pink and red and white, escorting the dark-eyed Centaur Mare Demeter over to speak to Aurelius, another Centaur who had come with her from near Cauldron Pool and who was now a captain in the army. Farther on, Peter and Linnet stood talking to the latest delegation from Tashbaan. The Calormenes wore robes of yellow and purple and trousers underneath that looked rather like pink balloons, something Edmund was sure Susan deplored, though she would, of course, be far too gracious a hostess to comment on it. The royal couple however were stunning in scarlet velvet trimmed in a gold that brought out the burnished lights in their hair. Susan was vision in cherry red that perfectly set off her flawless fair skin and the black curls that fell in ripples down her back. She was a compliment to the room itself, a veritable Queen of Hearts.

Edmund looked down at his own tunic. It was burgundy red, but such a deep shade that it looked almost black, and it was adorned with subtle vines and leaves in a forest green that almost melted into the burgundy like foliage in a dark night. Leave it to Su to figure out a way to please him without breaking her own rule about everyone wearing pink or white or red. He couldn't help wondering what she had arranged for Elain to wear. The girls had been talking about it for nearly six weeks now, but he knew no more now than he had at the first. He hadn't seen his own outfit until it had been laid out for him by his faun valet this afternoon. What would Elain–

There she was, across the room with his younger sister. Lucy wore a gown of soft pink, her blonde tresses piled atop her head and then cascading down again to her slender hips. Beside her was a vision in warm white velvet that seemed to shimmer like the candlelight. Ornamenting her sleeves, her full skirts and her neckline and lacing her smoothly fitted bodice was an intricately woven vine of deep forest green, the same vine that was on his own tunic, except hers was blooming with delicate deep-burgundy rosebuds. Her mahogany hair was braided through with more of the vines and leaves, giving her a look that was demure but at the same time reminded him of the elusive silver-eyed Dryads he sometimes glimpsed in his Western Woods. Something about it made his breath catch and then come a little faster.

"Stay here," he told Romulus and Remus when she saw him looking her way. "And don't eat anything until all the guests have been served."

The Wolves sank down onto their haunches, desolation in their yellow eyes, and Edmund wove his way past a number of hopeful young ladies, through the sea of pink and white and red, and toward Elain.

"Oooh, Edmund!" Lucy hurried to him and practically dragged him over to Elain. "I have to see you two together. Don't you both look nice. We'll have to go let Susan see. She worked very hard to get yours just right." She looked around the great hall and then she smiled. "There she is with Peter and Linnet. They'll want to see you, too, and then–"

"Can it wait a minute or two, Lu?" Edmund asked, freeing his arm good-naturedly from her grasp. "You could at least let me say hello to Elain."

"Spoilsport," she huffed, and then her eyes lit. "Oh, there's Darreth. Wait a minute. He'll want to see you too."

"I can't think of anything the poor fellow could possibly want less," Edmund murmured to Elain when Lucy was gone, "but if she's with him, she'll forget about us for the rest of the evening."

Elain covered a giggle with one slim hand.

"Good evening, My Lady." Edmund bowed deeply. "You're looking exceptionally lovely this evening. I hope you didn't let my sisters bully you too much."

"Oh, no." She stroked her hand admiringly down her embroidered sleeve. "I've never seen anything so lovely, much less worn it. The Queens have been far too kind."

"Aslan has given us far more than we could have asked or have thought to ask. Should we not share it with our kingdom?"

"We hear so many things of Him where I am from, but much of it is very confusing and even contradictory. Will you tell me about Him?"

"The best way to know what He's really like, is to meet Him yourself. But until then–" Edmund smiled and offered her his arm. "Shall we dance while we talk?"

The first dance was slow and stately, and he told her how he and his brother and sisters had first come into Narnia. He told her, and the ease of it surprised him, of his own treachery. As he told the tale, there was pity in her lovely eyes, pity for him, and then wonder that the Great Lion had loved him so much that He had given His own life so Edmund would not have to pay the fatal price, and then amazement that He had come back, just at the grimmest moment of the Battle of Beruna, defeated the White Witch, and freed not only Edmund but all of Narnia from her icy grasp. Then Edmund told her about some of the many times Aslan had made a way for him when he thought there could be no way, when his hope was gone and everything he had or was was not enough, but the Great Lion had brought him through all the same.

By then the music had changed. It was light and joyous, and Edmund told Elain about other times, times when Aslan had come not just to rescue but to bless and encourage, times when He had come to celebrate and enjoy what His Kings and Queens had done with the gifts He had given them, times when He had come to show them more and more the great plans He had for them all, plans to make them more and more what they had all along been intended to be.

Her mahogany eyes were shining when the music stopped and he led her to one of the tables where they could refresh themselves with a goblet of wine. "All you have done and seen," she said, "and you are so young yet. You could not be much older than– than the boys I knew back in my homeland."

He felt a touch of warmth creep into his face. "I had not meant to speak so much of myself, Lady, but how could I tell you better what Aslan is like than by telling you what He has done for me?"

"I would so like to meet Him," she murmured, a shy little smile on her lips. "Do you think He will come to Cair Paravel?"

"It is very hard to say. He is not a tame Lion. He comes as He pleases and when He pleases. I am sure He will be here when it is right for Him to be here. Peter tells me He was here just before his wedding, but then I'm sure the great numpty needed someone to tell him which boot went on which foot."

Elain giggled and then her expression grew pensive. "Do you think He would like me? I– I haven't done anything very grand, and I haven't always done everything I ought to have, but I've tried to be good." She ducked her head. "I suppose He's rather too busy for an apothecary's daughter."

"You still don't understand," Edmund said, and he put one gentle finger under her chin, tilting her face up to him. "He doesn't care for us because we're good, but because _He_ is good. And He doesn't mind who we are, only that we'd like to meet Him. Do you think I was born a King? He's the one that put the crown on my head, and it certainly wasn't because of anything grand I'd ever done." He grinned. "Apart from making a grand fool of myself."

"We all make mistakes," she said, and she looked away again. "It is good to know that He understands."

"He does. Besides," Edmund said, taking her hand, "how could He not care for you? How could anyone not care for someone so– Owww!"

Little claws sunk into his back and then tore their way up to his shoulder. He turned to see a pair of half-wild blue-green eyes staring back at him.

"Eddie. What are you doing?"

The tuxedo Kitten perched on his shoulder scowled at him. "What do you think I'm doing? I'm coming to ask you something."

Elain giggled again.

"You could have just asked me from down on the floor," Edmund reminded him.

"But you were talking to the Lady and I didn't want to be a 'fernal nuisance."

"It makes perfect sense to me," Elain said, her eyes twinkling.

Trying not to laugh himself, Edmund turned back to the Kitten. "What is it you would like to know, Eddie?"

"How come the Lady's Cat won't talk to us? Lulu and Suzie have been trying to get her to talk all the time, but she won't. Doesn't she like us? Petie says maybe she's afraid, but I don't think she's afraid. She purrs a lot. But she won't talk. Is she afraid?"

Elain looked around the room. "Is she all right?"

"I'm sure she is," Edmund said. "There she is, under that chair. Lulu's still trying to get her to talk."

The little Tabby was chattering away, and Elain's cat, marked so much the same as Lulu that they could have been sisters, was sitting listening to her, blinking from time to time and looking somewhat baffled.

Elain's smile returned. "Poor thing, she doesn't quite know what to make of a talking Cat."

Edmund winced as the Kitten nipped at his ear, just to get his attention.

"Don't bite me," Edmund said, dislodging him. "What is it?"

"She can't talk?" Eddie asked urgently. "Was she in a naxiddent?"

Elain reached over to pet his velvety head. "No, but where I come from the cats don't talk. They just purr and meow."

Eddie's furry brows came together. "They can't talk at all? How come?"

"You know the story about how Aslan made Narnia," Edmund told him. "And how He picked the two finest cats and made them talking Cats and told them to remember His ways lest they become dumb beasts once more."

Eddie nodded. "And did she forget His ways?"

Edmund chuckled. "No. Adina isn't a Narnian cat."

"But where did she come from? Didn't Aslan make her, too?"

"He did. But she was one of the cats He made to live in Archenland and places like that. So you must be very kind to her and not make her afraid, and she will still be your friend."

"I'll tell Lulu!"

Before Edmund could say anything more, the Kitten clawed his way down Edmund's back and then launched himself to the floor.

"She's not a lapsed Cat!" he called as he scurried toward his sister.

Edmund shook his head, watching him go. "You must forgive me, Lady Elain. It is one of the hazards of living here at Cair Paravel. There always seems to be an interruption." He guided her past a couple of girls from the Seven Isles who were staring daggers at her and over to one side of the room, near one of the columns where he and Elain would be at least slightly out of the way. "As I was saying, it would be very difficult for anyone not to care for someone like you." He cleared his suddenly dry throat. "I mean, it would be, it _is_ very difficult. There is so much about you that I–"

There was an enormous crash from the banquet table, the sudden clamor of voices, and if he was not mistaken, the whining of one of his Wolves.

Edmund winced and then looked at Elain. "I'm terribly sorry. Please, please stay right here. Promise me. I'll be back. Promise me!"

"I promise," she said in a low voice, her eyes troubled.

"I'll be back."

He strode over to the table to find Remus cowering beneath it with a half-eaten mince pie at his feet and an enraged, food-and-crockery-covered Calormene ambassador standing over him.

"That– that beast!" the little round man raged. "It took that pie from my very grasp!"

"He only did it on accident," Romulus told Edmund, and then he glared at the Calormene. "And he already had three of them all by himself anyway."

"Come over here, Remus," Edmund ordered, his face stern.

The Wolf slunk to his side, tail between his legs, head down.

"I want you to apologize."

Remus whined softly, his yellow eyes pleading.

"Go on."

The Wolf went to stand in front of the ambassador, still with his head down. "I'm very sorry you ate all the pies."

"Remus!" Edmund snapped.

Remus gulped. "I'm– I'm very sorry I took your pie and got stuff on you."

"Now," Edmund said, "I want you and Romulus to go to the kitchen and do not leave there until I come for you. Do you understand?"

"But I didn't do anything!" Romulus protested.

"I know." Edmund patted his head. "That's why I'm putting you in charge. You make sure he stays in the kitchen until I get there."

Romulus nudged his brother. Remus looked pleadingly at Edmund and then the two Wolves slunk out of the great hall. It took Edmund several minutes of apology, flattery and promises of more and better pies to calm the ambassador, but soon he was appeased, the onlookers went back to their eating and dancing and general jollification, and Edmund went back to Elain.

As she had promised, she was waiting there by the column.

"Is everything all right, My Lord?"

"Just Romulus and Remus. It seems I cannot get through even one evening without their having some sort of mishap. Do forgive the interruption."

"Of course." She took a deep breath and then she looked up at him, a tight smile on her lips. "You need not think you must spend the entire evening with me either. I know there are many ladies of your court and from all the lands who would very much like to dance with you and enjoy your company. I've seen them gazing after you as we've passed by, and if you would rather–"

"But I wouldn't rather. Elain, please, I would so much like to–" He followed her gaze and saw an heiress from the Lone Islands and Duchess from Terebinthia looking longingly toward him. They giggled and whispered together when they realized he had seen them, and he turned resolutely back to Elain. "Shall we walk out onto the balcony, My Lady? There are few things more beautiful than our Eastern Sea by moonlight."

She made a slight curtsy and allowed him to escort her out into the night. For several taut minutes, there was silence between them. The sounds of music and merrymaking seemed far away, and he was conscious only of the rhythmed lap of the sea.

"You are not too cold?" he asked finally. "I could fetch your cloak."

She quickly shook her head. "No. I was rather too warm inside. With all those people, I mean." Her smile was shy. "It is beautiful out here, as you said."

"I said there were few things more beautiful," he said, and he took her hand again. "But, truly, My Lady, you are one of them."

He could see her blush even in the darkness, and she bit her lip.

"My Lord–"

"I've been wanting to speak to you for a very long time now, My Lady."

"Edmund–"

"But I have come to hope, these past few weeks, that is, that you might have realized that I have come to think of you as more than a friend."

"My Lord, you must not say such things."

She tried to pull her hand away, not looking at him, but he held her there, gently but firmly.

"I know it is not the fashion for the ladies of Archenland lightly to show what is in their hearts." His own heart was racing, but he had to speak. He had to know. Did she, could she, desire more of him than friendship? "But, My Lady . . . Elain–"

"Please, My Lord, Edmund, you must not–"

"Elain." He released her, but he did not step aside so she could rush back into the great hall. "Do me the favor of hearing me out. Please. I know this is not the way it is done in Archenland. I know it is presumptuous of me, but please, just listen."

She bit her lip, silent but unsettled.

"Elain." Now that he finally had his opportunity, all of his fine words suddenly failed him. "Elain, you know, you must know, how I feel about you, how much I have come to care for you since you've come to Narnia. I know there is much yet that we must learn about each other. I am not asking for your pledge. Not now. All I want to know is if you feel anything for me at all. I know you are grateful for the help I gave you back in the pass coming from Archenland. I know we are friends, and I cherish that. If there is nothing deeper in your heart for me, I will hold you my friend still and I will never speak of this again. But if, oh, Elain, if there is more–"

There was a sudden commotion in the water just off the shore, shouting and crying out, and then the guards started hurrying toward it. He could have punched a hole in the stone wall behind him at the exasperating interruption. What was it now?

An Eagle flew up to the balcony and perched on the railing. "Forgive me, Your Majesty," he shrieked, "but you must come. The High King must know and the General."

Elain looked at him wide-eyed and then at Edmund. "What is it? What's happened?"

"A ship has sunk out to sea," the Eagle said. "The Merfolk are bringing in the survivors." "Forgive me." Edmund pressed a fervent kiss to Elain's hand. "Forgive me, I must go, but we will speak of this again and very soon."

She nodded. "Please," she said, and the moonlight caught the sparkle of tears in her dark eyes, "have a care of yourself."

He kissed her hand again, grinning in spite of himself, and hurried to get Peter and Oreius.

 **Author's Note: Oh, poor, poor Edmund. He can never catch a break, can he? Sooo . . . what do you think is going to happen? I hope you enjoyed this extra-long chapter. Reviews are love. :D**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Seventeen

The sun was rising orange and gold over the Eastern Sea before the crisis had been sufficiently managed. The sunken vessel was not _The Arabella_ , but _The Issus_ , a Terebinthian ship that spent most of its time carrying passengers and freight up and down the coast and to the islands. Its captain had gone down with his ship along with most of the crew, but his first mate, a weathered old man with a long, tobacco-stained beard, had been rescued along with fewer than thirty of the passengers.

The Merfolk, generally on watch for such incidents, had been gravely apologetic, telling the High King that, due to the storms that had struck and those they knew were yet to come, they had retired deep under the waves, not expecting even humans to be foolish enough to set sail in such weather. They had saved all they could, and for that Peter had commended them.

The two Kings and Darreth helped Oreius and his men carry the survivors up to the healers' ward where the Queens and their attendants did what they were able to make sure everyone was warm and fed and had a comfortable place to sleep. The wounded had the best of care, though most seemed to suffer from nothing more than exposure and exhaustion. Lucy had taken special charge of one little girl from the Seven Isles who was distraught over the loss of her parents, but then mother and father had been pulled last from the water and now the family lay, warm, dry and whole, huddled together before a crackling fire. Lucy stood smiling woozily over them until Edmund sent her and Susan both to bed. He'd seen Elain scurrying around, too, helping where she could, but he hadn't seen her for a little while now. Maybe she'd been smart enough to get some rest without being told.

Finally, he turned to Peter who was talking to a River Naiad healer named Arethusa. She had charge of the only serious case from the wreck, a young man in his middle twenties with dark hair tied with a leather thong at the nape of his neck. He looked pale just now, but there was a definite line between his neck and his chest and between his forearms and upper arms that showed he had often been in the sun. Arethusa told Peter he suffered from a dislocated shoulder, a deep blow to the back of the head, and general bruising and scraping that she speculated was due to his trying to keep control of a sail by tying the rope around his waist and then wrapping it around his hands until it was ripped free by the savage winds.

As she spoke, Edmund swiftly assessed the sodden pile of clothes in the basket beside the bed. Black or very dark shirt, tunic and trousers. No embellishments. Heavy boots. No sign of a weapon, though there was a narrow leather sheath with a strap that was too short to buckle anywhere but around the man's forearm. Any sort of hat or cap would have been lost in the sea as would any papers or identification. The man had a slightly lighter strip of skin around one finger where there had no doubt once been a ring, but it was gone, too. There was nothing here to show who he was or where he had come from. He was not a Calormene. He was definitely human.

Peter drew a deep breath and gave Edmund a tired smile. "Anything?"

"I guess we'll have to wait until he wakes. If he wakes."

"We could ask him," Peter said, nodding toward the first mate who was as close to the fire as he could and drinking some kind of soup. "Is it all right if we talk to him, Arethusa?"

The Naiad bowed her head. "If you will have a care not to overtire him, High King."

"Feeling better?" Peter asked when he and Edmund went to stand near the old man.

"First hot grub I've had since we were fool enough to stay our course into that typhoon and not head back to Tashbaan." He gave them a gold-toothed grin. "Not that I'm kicking about it now."

"Do you know who that man is?" Peter indicated the unconscious man on the bed not far from him. "Obviously, he's in no position to say."

The first mate shrugged and swallowed down another spoonful of soup. "As I recollect, his name is Dougal. If he's got another, I never heared it."

"Was he traveling with anyone?" Edmund asked. "Perhaps someone here?"

"Not as I knowed, sir, no. Never saw him with anyone, nor talking with anyone except as he might ask to have the bread passed to him at table and such. He's no sailor, I'd wager, though he was as game as you please trying to hold that sail when Dorrige went over."

Edmund gave him half a smile and then grew wary when he saw another man, a little pale-eyed, blubber-lipped man, peering at him from under the blanket he was swathed in.

"Do you know the man?" Edmund asked.

Beside him, Peter bent down a bit, trying to see him better. "What is your name, friend?"

"G-Gorby," the little man stammered, and he ducked his head more. "Gorby, Your High Kingship."

Peter looked too tired to be amused. "Well? Do you know him?"

"No, Your Majesty. I heard he was called Dougal, same as Mr. Fadiman there, but that's all. He never said much to nobody all the time he was on the ship."

"Where did he board?" Edmund asked.

"Tashbaan, sir. Many of them came on there. Same as me."

Peter sighed. "We'll just have to wait till he wakes up to find out more. I suppose we should be glad he's the only one of our refugees we need to worry about."

Edmund nodded, and then he glanced at Fadiman. "Have you heard of a ship called _The Arabella_ by any chance? You must hear about nearly anything that sails going all over as you do."

The first mate nodded. "Seems I've her of 'er, yes, sir. Lost 'er mast in a storm as I heard and was leakin' fit to sink. Had to pull into Galma. Dry docked 'er, they say. Might not be fit to sail even now."

"I see." That would explain why there'd been no news of her for so long. "Thank you for the information."

"How do you come to ask about The Arabella, sir?" The little man squinted at Edmund as if he needed spectacles. "Is she your ship?"

"No." Edmund gave him a bland smile. "Just wondering."

Peter swatted his brother on the shoulder. "Come on. We'd both do better for a few hours' sleep. Where are the girls?"

"I already sent Susan and Lucy off. Where's Linnet?"

Peter looked around. "I don't know. She and Elain were in charge of warming blankets and handing them out. I don't see either of them."

"They may have been wise enough to go to bed already. I suppose Oreius has everything secured down on the beach."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Do you really need to ask?"

"All right," Edmund said with a soft laugh. "You'd better–"

"Forgive me, Your Majesties," the Naiad said, her voice the soft rush of running water. "Perhaps you know best what to do about a certain matter?"

Puzzled, the two Kings followed her into the corridor. There they found Linnet and Elain both sitting on a marble bench. They both had an armload of blankets, and they both were sound asleep.

Peter carefully lifted the blankets off his wife's lap and, with a fond smile, lifted her into his arms. She never stirred.

"Goodnight," he whispered, and then he carried her away.

Edmund looked at them and then at Elain and then at the Naiad. As much as he would have liked to, he couldn't just carry Elain up to her chamber and put her to bed, but he hated to wake her when she was clearly exhausted. He slipped one arm around her shoulders and the other behind her knees and picked her up. Her eyes fluttered open slightly and then, with a sigh, she closed them again and nestled her head into the curve of his shoulder. Aslan help him, it wasn't going to be easy to let her go again.

"Perhaps you could accompany us up to the Lady's quarters, Arethusa."

The Naiad smiled in understanding, curtsied fluidly, and then led the way. The She-Bear who had been serving as Elain's lady's maid came to the door clicking her tongue and peering over her spectacles at them.

"Oh, the poor little mite, she's worn herself to nothing. Well, bring her in, Your Majesty, bring her in."

"I think Mrs. Medved will see to things from here," Arethusa murmured, and with another curtsy, she left them.

Edmund carried Elain to the downy bed and carefully laid her down. Mrs. Medved, chattering on all the while about the poor mite and the wickedness of ship wrecks and the foolishness of people who ought to know better than to leave their dens to go careering about on the sea. Edmund nodded whenever he thought a response was called for, but he didn't really listen. He couldn't focus on anything but the sweet, tired face of the girl he loved. He hadn't finished telling her what was on his mind and in his heart. Perhaps tomorrow. Please Aslan, tomorrow.

Mrs. Medved removed her little velvet slippers and then looked at Edmund expectantly.

"Uh, yes." He cleared his throat. "I'd better go. Yes, of course. Do let me know if she needs anything, um, or Susan of course. Susan would probably know better what she needs. Uh, I–"

"Goodnight, Your Majesty," the She-Bear whispered, and the moment Edmund was out the door, she shut it firmly behind him.

OOOOO

Edmund slept well past noon and then ate every bite of the enormous breakfast his valet brought to him.

"Is everyone stirring now, Crispus?" Edmund asked him, and the Faun nodded his curly brown head.

"The High King has arranged for the _Splendor Hyaline_ to carry all of our poor refugees to their destinations once the storms no longer threaten. And he's sent his Sparrowhawks to carry messages to their families, so they'll not be worried over the delay or by hearing the ship had been lost."

"Good. Very good." Edmund ran one hand over his hair and then frowned. "Is my bath ready? And I want that forest green tunic Master Scrabble made for me last week and whatever else goes with it."

The Faun bowed, but there was an annoying little smirk on his lips. "I have heard that the Lady Elain had breakfast with the Queens and is in the garden even now reading Queen Susan's book of tales."

Edmund didn't know whether to thank him or reprimand him for his impertinence.

"I believe the Lady is alone," Crispus added. "For now."

"Why didn't you tell me that before?" Edmund tossed his coverlet aside and leapt out of bed, annoyance forgotten. "Get my clothes. Where are my new boots? Why isn't my bath ready?"

"It is, Your Majesty. This way."

He dressed in record time. He considered as he looked in his mirror that Susan would have said he needed a haircut, but there was no time for that now. He knew what he was going to say to Elain, and by all the worlds, he was going to say it. Today. And she was going to listen.

All during the time he had been eating breakfast, he had thought about it, and Henry the Fifth had come back to his mind, the formidable warrior-king who had stood tongue-tied before the princess he wished to make his queen. Well, once more unto the breach, dear Edmund, once more.

He made his way directly to the garden, glad that he didn't run into his brother or sisters or anyone else who would keep him from his purpose. He was a King. He could do this. It wasn't as if he had to conquer a whole kingdom to win her as Henry had done. There didn't need to be accords signed between two sovereign nations and days worth of negotiations in order to set equitable terms. He just needed to tell her he loved her and find out for certain if she loved him. That was all. Why did he feel it would be easier to go to war against the Giants?

As Crispus had told him, Elain was in the garden reading, her thick hair tumbling loose down the back of her sea-green dress and her cat sunning herself in the grass at her feet. Besides the cat, she was alone.

Edmund drew a deep breath. "Elain?"

She looked up, fresh color coming into her cheeks. "Your Majesty."

She started to get up, but he stopped her.

"No, please. Stay where you are." He gestured to the empty space beside her. "May I?"

"Of course."

He sat down and for the longest time didn't seem to know what to say. He was known throughout all the lands for his silver tongue, and just now he couldn't think of a blessed word.

"I hope you weren't too upset by what happened last night," he said at last.

"Oh, no, My Lord. It was a terrible thing, but I am glad we could help the ones who made it to shore. It reminds me when I would help my father sometimes in his apothecary shop."

"I did get some news about your ship, by the way. It seems it put into port in Galma for repairs."

She clasped her hands. "Oh, at last. Do you know if her voyage was successful?"

"I'm afraid I didn't really ask much about it, but we can go talk to the man who told me that much. You can ask him all your questions, and what he doesn't know we'll send to Galma to find out. How would that be?"

"Thank you," she said, though her smile was thanks enough. "Do you think we might go talk to him now?"

"In time, My Lady, if you will pardon me." He took her hand. "I told you last night that we would speak again."

She looked down at their clasped hands, and he swallowed hard. He was a King. Aslan help him, what was he going to say? What had King Henry said?

 _I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say I love you._

"My Lady." He steadied himself. "Elain, I tried to say this last night and I never quite managed to. I tried to think of all kinds of poetic words and romantic promises, but I can't say those things to you."

Still she did not look at him.

 _I have no cunning in protestation, only downright oaths, which I never use till urged, nor never break for urging._

"I don't know what else to say. I can't do anything but tell you straight out that I love you. If you want me to swear it to you, I will, and that is an oath I'll never break."

Her full lips trembled, and she pressed them together, squeezing his hand more tightly.

 _I speak to thee plain soldier. If thou canst love me for this, take me._

"I can't say it more plainly than that. I just need to know if you feel the same way." He licked his dry lips. "If you–"

"Edmund." Still clinging to his hand, she ducked her head lower and didn't say anything else.

 _A good leg will fall, a straight back will stoop, a black beard will turn white, a curled pate will grow bald, a fair face will wither, a full eye will wax hollow, but a good heart is the sun and the moon, or rather the sun and not the moon, for it shines bright and never changes but keeps his course truly._

"One day, My Lady, I will grow old. I won't be able to lead my army into battle or fight a tournament in honor of your love or dance with you at the Sweethearts' Day Ball. My hair will turn gray, perhaps it will fall out, but no matter how old I grow, my love for you will be the same. I daresay it will be greater than it is now because it will have had so many years to grow, but my heart and every bit of love that is in it will always be yours."

He pressed their clasped hands over his racing heart.

 _If thou would have such a one, take me. And take me, take a soldier. Take a soldier, take a king. And what say'st thou then to my love? Speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee._

"If you want someone who will always love you, then take me, King of Narnia, common soldier, simple Edmund Pevensie. Please, Elain. Please, love. Tell me if you can love me, too."

He brought the back of her hand to his lips, touching it with reverence, with tender passion, with desperate longing, and a tear slipped down the sweet curve of her cheek. She hadn't looked at him all this while, and he turned her face to his. Her eyes were full of tears and pleading, and he leaned closer, his lips almost upon hers.

"You have witchcraft in your lips," he whispered, so close he could feel the warmth of her breath. "Elain."

"Elain!"

Elain sprang back from him, and Edmund turned on the intruder, ready to skewer him with his sword for daring to interrupt. He was surprised to see it was the man from the shipwreck, head bandaged, shoulder in a sling, still pale and unsteady but on his feet. He was more surprised to see Elain leap up and throw herself into his arms.

"Bran! Oh, Bran, where did you come from? What are you doing here? What happened to you? Were you in the wreck? How did I not see you last night? Shouldn't you still be in bed?"

Not waiting for an answer to any of her questions, she clung to him, blotting her tears against his dark tunic.

He hugged her close with his good arm and then leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. Her nose. Her lips. Then he turned to Edmund, his arm still around Elain, his smile now glittering and hard.

"I beg your pardon, King Edmund. I was told you were here, and I came to thank you and all your royal family for your assistance last night. I did not expect to find you forcing your attentions on my wife."

 **Author's Note: Uh oh.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Eighteen

Wife? His wife?

Edmund stared helplessly at Elain as she stood in the man's embrace, clearly a place of familiarity, of security, of long-established custom. His wife.

She turned to the man, her mahogany eyes wide, her lips trembling. "Bran, please, it's not his fault. It was just a misunderstanding."

Bran's eyes flashed in his pale face. "A misunderstanding? You were a hair's breadth from kissing him. How is that a misunderstanding?"

She clung to his unbandaged arm, to the front of his dark tunic. "Bran."

Edmund swallowed down the burning in his throat. "The Lady speaks true, sir. The fault was mine. She tried all this while to let me know my feelings were not returned, and I thought it was merely her maidenly modesty that made her turn from me." He bowed tautly, knowing his face was fiery red. "I beg her pardon and yours."

"King Edmund has been nothing but an honorable gentleman," Elain pled. "I could not help being grateful to him for his care and kindness. I should–" She glanced at Edmund and then fixed her gaze on her slippered feet. "I should have told him about us, but truly, I did not wish to repay all he has done by causing him pain."

Edmund clenched his jaw. _So I am repaid with this instead?_

Bran used his sleeve to blot the perspiration from his upper lip and then looked down at Elain. Finally, a smile tickled one corner of his mouth. "I suppose I can hardly fault you, love, for being difficult to resist." He cuddled her closer. "And I am glad to know you've been well taken care of." He studied Edmund for a moment and then offered an unsteady hand. "Again, I have much to thank you for. We hear so many strange stories of the Kings and Queens of Narnia where I am from, it is hard to tell what is true and what is false. If everything is as my wife has said, you have my thanks indeed."

Edmund took his hand as warily as it had been presented to him. "You need not fear, sir. The Lady has shown me nothing but friendship, and has allowed nothing more, no matter how honorably offered, than the same."

Bran bowed his head in acknowledgment and then clutched Edmund's hand more tightly, swaying on his feet. Edmund quickly took his arm.

"Bran." Elain tried to help support him. "He should be in bed."

Despite the man's mumbled protests, Edmund managed to get his good arm around his shoulders and his own arm around the man's waist. But the time they were back in the healer's ward, Edmund was practically carrying him.

The Naiad healer, Arethusa, was standing at his bedside, nothing but disapproval on her delicate face. "I told him he ought to stay abed at least a day longer, but he was determined to speak to you, My Lord."

"Is he–" Elain blinked back tears. "Will he be all right?"

The Naiad helped settled the patient into bed and then checked his bandaged shoulder and head. "He has merely exhausted his strength, Lady. He will be well in time, provided he is not again so foolish." She turned to scold the man and then shook her flowing locks to see he had drifted into unconsciousness. "He will be well, Lady. You need not worry." She patted Elain's hand. "He is someone you know well?"

Elain bit her lip and looked guiltily at Edmund.

"He is her husband," Edmund said, and his voice was stark and cold.

Arethusa blinked. Then she took her hand away from Elain's, her expression completely professional now. "He will sleep some while now. If you have need of me, My King, you need only call."

Once the Naiad was gone, Edmund remained standing there at the patient's bedside. Elain stood beside him, looking at the man's face, her expression troubled. When she did not speak, he made a brief bow.

"If you have no further need of me, My Lady, I have duties to which I must attend. Arethusa will attend to anything you might need."

She made no reply to that, and he turned to go. Immediately, she caught his hand. Just as swiftly, she released it.

"I'm– I'm so sorry, Edmund. Your Majesty." She didn't look away from Bran's face, but there were tears in her voice. "I should have–"

"Please." He couldn't help the frigid hardness in his tone. "As I said before, the fault of this is mine. You told me time and again that I must not speak to you of love, and I let myself believe you felt as I did. It was a presumption I should never have dared make. I will not make it again."

"Edmund," she whispered.

Now she did look at him, and there was pain and pleading in her eyes. He steeled himself against it. He would not be so foolish again.

"I know I've hurt you, and I never meant to." She tilted her head a little to one side, a wretched mockery of a smile on her lips. "I could not have asked for a kinder, more thoughtful, more honorable gentleman to help me through such a difficult time, and I am more grateful to you than I could ever put into words."

"It is nothing," he said. "I would have done it for anyone."

That stung her, and he was irrationally pleased at the realization.

She laughed silently, bitterly. "I would have told you. I was about to tell you when Bran interrupted. I hadn't wanted to tell you at all. I mean, I should have from the first, but I thought it didn't matter. I thought I would find _The Arabella_ and be gone in only a few days. I didn't mean for you to . . . It wasn't my intention to give you the wrong impression. I have enjoyed your company, your friendship, so much, and I'm sorry to have caused you embarrassment like this."

Embarrassment? Did she think that was all he felt? A little embarrassment? A little inconvenience? A few awkward explanations to his family and to the whole Kingdom of Narnia? He had bared his whole heart before her, laid it beating and bloodied at her dainty feet, and she had seen no more than friendship? Congenial company?

He had to get out before the burning in his flesh caught his clothes and hair on fire.

"I hope you will not think of it again," he said, his voice still as cold as the winter air. "I assure you I shall not."

"Edmund."

"As I said, I have duties to which I must attend. I am certain you will understand why this must be the last private conversation we have."

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and onto her cheek, but she responded with only a slight nod of her head. He strode out of the room before he made a greater fool of himself than he already had.

OOOOO

The beach was empty. Cold. Gray. Forbidding. Edmund had sent all the sentries away. They wouldn't go far, Oreius had trained them too well for that, but at least now Edmund could feel as if he had minute or two to himself. Here, with the wind swirling a sprinkle of snowflakes on the sea-heavy air, he could at least breathe and not suffocate. He had been cruel to Elain, and he had enjoyed it. She deserved it, didn't she? Perhaps she did, but he felt no better for having done it. It had pierced him to the heart to see the pain and remorse in her eyes. He knew far too well what it was like to do something that seemed so innocent at the time but which ended up bringing nothing but pain to those who loved him. He had still been forgiven. But, this– Oh, it hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

He trudged through the sodden sand, his boots leaving a trail behind him that was swiftly erased by the lapping waves until he finally came to stand near the large rock at the curve of the coastline. He leaned his back against it, trying to think of nothing, trying just to breathe and not hurt, trying not to burn. His wife. She was Bran's wife. She was his wife. His wife.

He walked ankle-deep into the sea, bending down to cup his hand in the freezing water and bring it to his parched lips. Immediately he spat it out. Salty. Foul. Freezing but not cooling. Searing mortification, burning pain, scalding humiliation coursed like acid through his veins and would not be quenched. He stepped further in, the water pouring into his boots, filling them, chilling his cringing flesh, freezing but not cooling. Further in he went, to his waist, to his shoulders, and then he was swimming. The freezing salt water hit his burning face, every tossing wave a slap. He ducked his head under, kicking his leaden boots, curving his body to force it deeper and deeper under the icy water. Freezing, not cooling.

 _Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this fire from my heart?_ That wasn't quite how Macbeth had said it, was it? He laughed, and little bubbles floated around him, reminding him he had not breathed. Reminding him he must turn back or it would be too late. Reminding him that she belonged to someone else. Reminding him.

 **Author's Note: O.o**


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Nineteen

Blood rushed in Edmund's ears as he thrashed upward, upward in the freezing seawater, upward to light and air and life. The burning pain in his heart, in his soul, was drowned by the burning emptiness in his lungs, suffocated by the desperate need to breathe, to live. He kicked his leaden legs, but they were weighted by his sodden boots, crippled by muscles to weary and cramped to move.

He had gone too far. Waited too long. The winter sun was too dim to shine into the murky sea and light his way up and out, but he struggled on, heart nearly bursting, muscles clenching and shrieking in the icy cold until finally he broke the surface. He gulped down air and then choked on salt water as a wave crashed over him, slamming him down again, forcing him to fight his way back up, desperate for breath, for freedom.

Again he broke the surface, coughing and gasping, and again a wave roared over him, driving him down and down. Weakening. He was weakening. Again he fought his way up only to be thrust down again, again and again until his strength and breath were gone. The water around him went from gray to black, and still the waves crashed and roared, tumbling him over and over, relentless, merciless, tossing him until he could struggle no more, then washing him like seaweed onto the shore.

He lay there gasping, sucking down the burning air, coughing up saltwater, shivering, weak, and battered, as freezing now as he had been burning before. Somehow he managed to lift his head and toss his dripping hair out of his eyes. How far was he from the Cair? He squinted unable to focus. Could he make it back? On his feet or on his belly?

Somehow he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, spent muscles screaming and trembling in protest as he crawled forward, mud caking his freezing hands, waves breaking against him, rushing and receding until they drove him down again, his cheek and chin making curved impressions in the sodden sand. It was all he could do to raise his head again, perhaps an inch, perhaps two, and he thrust out one arm, meaning to use it as a makeshift pillow. But instead of sand and rock and unrelenting cold, his fingers touched something warm, something with velvet fur over unyielding muscle, something alive.

A paw.

Edmund looked up, but the Lion's face was all shadow, His head and mane haloed by the winter sun behind Him.

"Aslan?" Teeth chattering, Edmund crawled to Him and huddled against His side, blinking back the salty water that was somehow warm in his eyes. "Aslan."

The Lion said nothing, merely warming him against His fur, pulling him close and closer still, nuzzling his cold face and hair. Edmund clung to Him, still shaking, still shaken, unable to speak, certain He knew everything already. For the longest time, he didn't move. He wanted to stay where he was and never have to go back to the torment that awaited him at the Cair. Elain was not his, could never be his. He'd made a fool of himself thinking she cared for him. Did he think he deserved a true and faithful love, a love as deep and burning as his own, a love that would never die? Did he think he was Peter? He was Edmund the Traitor, why should he not be betrayed? Why should he not be deceived into opening his heart only to have it pierced through with steel and poison?

In spite of himself, another hot tear slid down his cheek and vanished into the golden fur. No, it wasn't fair. Whatever else he was, he was just. He would be just. She hadn't tried to entice him. She hadn't invited his attentions. She had told him with her words and with her actions that she wanted only friendship. But her eyes, her mesmerizing mahogany eyes, they had told him something different. They had spoken more loudly than words could have done, their depths calling to the deep in him. Narnia's diplomat and judge, he had prided himself on reading the slightest twitch in a Giant's cruel mouth or the most minute narrowing of a deceitful Tarkaan's eye. How had he misread in Elain what had seemed to him so clear?

"Do you love her?"

The words were only a rumble in the Lion's chest, and Edmund ducked his head against it, unable to answer.

"Tell Me."

"I–" Edmund's throat felt raw and he licked his dry lips. "I thought I did. But now that I know she's married, I guess I was just being stupid."

"Knowing she is married doesn't change your feelings, Dear One, only your actions."

Again, pain and humiliation burned through every vein in Edmund's body. "I've made a fool of myself and for nothing. I can never see her again. She should have told me. She knew how I felt. She should have told me. I would have respected her marriage. I would have. I would have helped her anyway, just because she was in trouble." His voice broke. "Why didn't she tell me?"

The Lion nuzzled the side of his head. "Everyone has his reasons, sound or not, for doing as he does."

"It doesn't matter why. She's married. That's the end of it."

"So because you cannot have her," Aslan said, "you will not love her? Did you love her or did you merely want her? They are two far different things."

"I know," Edmund breathed.

Once more, the Lion was silent, merely holding him, shielding him from the icy winds, waiting until his pounding heart slowed. "Edmund," He said at last, "I ask you again, do you love her?"

This time Edmund couldn't speak at all. He only nodded. He could deny it to his family. He could deny it to her husband. He could deny it to her and even to himself, but he could never deny it to Aslan.

"But she loves him."

"She does," the Lion said, his voice the low, unchanging rumble that had always before soothed his hurts and calmed his fears. "And he loves her. He has done much to care for her and to protect her. And what of you, Beloved Son? Because you love her, will you do the same?

Did he love her? Did he love her enough to see that she was safe and happy, even if that meant she belonged to someone else? It was more than he could bear. More than Aslan should ask of him, wasn't it? What was love? If it expected something in return, was it truly love? Did he love her or just want her?

He buried his face against the Lion's fragrant mane, twisting his fingers into its silken warmth. "What do You want me to do?"

"You are my Beloved Son, My Chosen King," Aslan said, His voice a caress, "and I will ask of you a hard thing. I know your heart is bruised and raw, I know you feel you have been foolish to open it only to have it broken in return, but I will ask you to trust Me with the keeping of it. I will ask you to forgive what you cannot understand and treat the Lady in all honor with the love I know you have for her. Not because of anything you can receive from her, but because you love her more than you love yourself or your pride or your dignity. Will you do this because I ask it, My Son? And trust that I will see that you have all that you need and more than you could ask in return?"

Edmund clung closer, his throat burning with unshed tears, but he finally nodded. "If You ask it, I will do the best I'm able."

"I can ask no more." The Lion nuzzled his cheeks and then his nose. "You are looked for, Beloved."

"Edmund!"

That was Peter's voice, and he could hear Oreius calling for him, too, from the bluff above the beach.

"King Edmund! There he is, High King!"

Edmund tried to stand but could only huddle there against the frigid wind and wait for them to come to him. The Lion was gone.

 **Author's Note: So, there's that. Comments?**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Twenty

"Edmund!"

"My King!"

Peter's voice. Oreius's. The thud of boots and hooves in wet sand. Edmund tried to push himself up to his hands and knees, but he could do no more than lift his head and shoulders before crashing back into the icy surf.

Peter reached him first, wrapping him first in strong arms and then in a sturdy cloak. "What are you doing? You're freezing. What in the world were you thinking?" He pushed Edmund's dripping hair out of his face and looked searchingly into his eyes. "Were you trying to–"

"We'd best get him into the Cair, High King," Oreius said gravely. "You questions will be better asked once he is warm and dry."

Peter nodded and, eyes full of worry, hauled Edmund to his feet. "Come on. We'd better get you to your quarters before Susan sees you. You know she'll–"

Edmund collapsed against him, making him stagger, almost pulling him down to the sand as he fell.

"Eddie."

"Sorry," Edmund mumbled, struggling to keep his feet, too stupidly weak to do more than tug the front of Peter's tunic as Peter pulled him back up.

"It's all right. I've got you." There was only soothing confidence in Peter's tone, but that was contradicted by the concern in his expression. "I've got you." He put Edmund's arm around his shoulders and his own arm around Edmund's waist and turned him toward the Cair. "Steady now?"

Edmund managed a nod. Then he took a step forward only to collapse again.

"Allow me, High King."

Not waiting for Peter's reply, Oreius lifted Edmund into his arms as if he was a child and carried him swiftly up the path back to the Cair. After that, everything was rather a muddle. Edmund was smuggled into his quarters before the girls and a multitude of curious onlookers saw his pathetic state. Once there, he was put into a hot bath and then a warm bed and made to drink some very strong wine he did not want. After that, he found it impossible to open his eyes, impossible to stay awake.

"Peter," he murmured, his voice sounding very far away, and he felt a hand on his forehead.

"Just go to sleep, Eddie. You're all right."

"But–"

"Go to sleep." The hand smoothed back his hair and then rested for a moment against it. "I'll be right here."

OOOOO

The next thing Edmund knew, his chamber was dark. Only the flicker of firelight kept it from total blackness. He was stifling under a mound of blankets and comforters, but something kept him from throwing them off.

"Hot," a voice croaked, and it took him a second or two to realize the voice was his own.

"Be still."

That was Peter's voice, so of course he didn't do what it said.

"It's too hot," Edmund croaked again, shoving as hard as he could. That wasn't very hard, of course, but he managed to push off some of the covers.

"Edmund," Peter scolded, but he turned back everything but the top sheet. "I know you're hot. That's what happens when you're an idiot and end up with a fever. Drink this."

The water was cool, not freezing as the sea had been, and soothing to his parched throat. He drank down two cupfuls, but then Peter wouldn't give him any more.

"Not so fast, Eddie. You can have all you want, just not all at once. Arethusa said you should have more of this if you woke up."

He put a different cup to Edmund's lips, but Edmund pushed it away. It was more of that strong wine he had had before.

"What is that? What's in it?"

"She said you need to sleep."

"I don't need that," Edmund protested, and then he was wracked with coughing that burned his throat and battered his lungs.

Peter sat on the edge of the bed, helping him sit up, supporting him until the fit was over.

"Of course you don't," he said into the silence that followed.

Edmund wrenched away from him and flung himself onto the pillow again, his back turned. Peter merely sighed and leaned against the head of the bed. He didn't say anything. Several minutes passed, and Edmund desperately needed to cough, but he forced himself not to. If he was still and quiet, maybe Peter would think he was asleep and go away.

Eventually he had to breathe and that meant he had to cough. The fit was worse than before, and Peter sat him up again, holding Edmund's head against his shoulder until he could breathe again. This time Edmund didn't pull away. He made no effort to wipe away the tears the coughing had brought to his eyes. He was too exhausted and too ashamed to do anything but sit there slumped against Peter, still wheezing and gasping for air. Finally, there was only silence again.

Peter held the water to his lips, letting him drink but not too much. Then he put the cup back on the bedside table. Still he said nothing.

"I'm sorry," Edmund muttered at last, not looking at him.

"What were you thinking?" Peter said. There was no reproof, no anger in his voice.

Edmund's already raw throat tightened. What had he been thinking? He had known how it would be even before he stepped one foot into the surf– icy water knifing through him, cramping his muscles, seizing his heart, piercing his flesh like fine, sadistic needles. Somehow he had craved that pain, hoping it would dull the other pain that had overwhelmed him earlier. Elain was married. She was another man's wife. And he had been fool enough to believe that she loved him. That pain was still there. Keener than ever. That pain– "I don't know."

Again there was silence, and then Peter's arm tightened almost imperceptibly around him.

"Eddie, you weren't trying to . . . " Peter caught an unsteady breath. "You didn't mean to–"

"Kill myself?" Edmund gave a hoarse, wheezy laugh, and somehow the thought of King Henry V came back to him. _If thou canst love me for this, take me._ He had thought of that when he was telling Elain how he felt, when he'd told her he could offer her no more than all his love and all himself. But he remembered, too, what came next. _If not, to say to thee that I shall die is true, but for thy love, by the Lord, no._ "Hang me if I'd die for someone who doesn't care tuppence for me."

"Bran told us who he is," Peter said quietly. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

"Sorry to have a fool for a brother, I know."

"You know that's not so. And I don't think it's true that she didn't care for you. Doesn't care for you. I've seen how she looks at you."

Edmund shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't blame any new tears on a coughing fit just now. "She loves him. Bran. Even Aslan told me so."

"Aslan?"

"He was on the beach before you came. He said she and Bran love each other, but I knew that already. I could see it as soon as I saw them together. Whatever I might have convinced myself of doesn't matter now." He coughed again, making his chest ache. "I didn't have any business thinking anyone could love me like that anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Peter, you know. You're the kind of guy who deserves someone who'll love him no matter what. Someone like Linnet. Me, I'm just–"

"You're just." Peter hugged him tighter, shaking him a little as he did. "You're just an idiot, that's what. Don't tell me you don't deserve someone who'll love you. I don't know anyone who deserves it more."

"I'm a poisonous little beast, remember?" Edmund said, trying to shrug him off, but Peter wouldn't let him.

"I should never have said that." There was pain in Peter's voice.

"It's true."

"Was true. Was. Years ago. Before Narnia. Before Aslan. You're someone else now. Elain was the first girl you let see past that prickly hedge you keep around yourself, and she couldn't help being fond of you."

Edmund laughed under his breath. "Fond."

"I can't even imagine how much this must hurt you," Peter said. "If I had to give up Linnet, if there was some reason I couldn't have her, I don't know what I'd do. But if I had to, if that was best for her, then I'd let her go. Somehow I'd let her go. You have to let Elain go, but don't let something like this spoil what might happen later on. Don't put up that hedge again and miss the one Aslan has for you."

"I don't want anyone else," Edmund said, barely able to get the words out.

"I know." Peter hugged him again. "I know."

Edmund clung to him a moment more and then pushed himself away. "Maybe I'd better have some of that wine after all. I can't–" He pressed his trembling lips together. "I can't think about this anymore. Not right now."

Peter brought him the cup with the wine in it and held it to his lips.

Edmund drank it all.

 **Author's Note: Poor, dear Edmund. What will he do?**


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Twenty-One

For what seemed like days or even weeks, Edmund had only a vague recollection of candlelight and hushed voices, of Susan's cool hands and Lucy's anxious eyes and Peter's pacing boots, of hot broths and hotter tea and that bitter wine that always made him sleep, and of the tight heaviness in his chest that made it a constant struggle to breathe. Mostly there was oblivion, and for that he was grateful, but now, at last, he felt that his mind was clearing.

He hadn't opened his eyes yet, but he could tell it was daytime, and he felt a little stronger than he had before. He wanted to get up, but even though he felt sure the fever had left him, even though he had gone at least a minute now without suffering a violent fit of coughing, there was still that heaviness in his chest that made it hard for him to breathe. At least he could push some of the blankets off. It was monstrously hot.

Still not opening his eyes, he stretched out his hands. Fur. Ugh. It was bad enough when Susan insisted on down comforters and wool blankets, but fur? He shoved with both hands, and the fur yelped in return.

His eyes flew open and he found a pair of yellow eyes looking down on him with a panting doggy smile.

"Hi!"

"Romulus." Edmund blinked and then scowled, and his voice was rough in his raw throat. "Get off me, I can't breathe."

The Wolf stepped politely onto the bed, and his brother leapt off the floor to take his place on Edmund's chest. Right in the middle of his chest. A second pair of yellow eyes smiled down on him.

"Hi!"

"Remus," Edmund groaned. "Where'd you come from?"

"You pushed me onto the floor. I was helping Romulus keep you from getting cold."

"You can tell Susan you did a fine job, now get off."

After giving Edmund a slobbery lick on the side of the head, Remus moved to Edmund's unoccupied side. Unable to keep from smiling, Edmund put an arm around him and his brother and pulled them both close. At least he could always count on them.

"Thank you for looking after me," Edmund said, ruffling the fur on top of Remus' shaggy head. He gave the other Wolf a squeeze. "You too, Romulus."

"We weren't sure if you were going to wake up today," Romulus said. "One of us is supposed to go get King Peter if you wake up." He looked significantly at his brother.

"I think he meant you," Remus said piously. "You're the one he told."

"He told us," Romulus replied. "I'm pretty sure he meant you."

"No, he didn't."

"Fine." Romulus sniffed and started to get up. "Just more proof that I'm the only one he can count on."

Remus leapt to his feet. "No you're not! I'll be back before you can even stand up."

"No, you won't!"

Romulus sprang out of the bed, and both Wolves bolted out the door. Edmund wanted to laugh at that, but his ribs were still too sore. He didn't know how long he had been coughing, but it had been long enough. He didn't ever want to do it again.

He lay back against his pillows, trying to remember everything, anything. Elain. The pain welled up like blood from a fresh wound. Elain. She was married to Bran. That was all.

Were they still in Cair Paravel? Probably. Bran hadn't been in any condition to travel. But that had been . . . how long ago? Edmund rubbed one hand over his chin. It was a little stubbly but not bad. He couldn't have been here long. He didn't remember being shaved. Still, he wouldn't put it past Susan ordering it done while he was unconscious.

He licked his parched lips and looked over at the bedside table. There was a silver pitcher there and a cup, but it seemed a mile off.

He drew a deep, painful breath. "Come on, Pevensie. No use lying here like a great baby, not even able to get your own water."

He rolled to his side and pushed himself up with trembling arms. Then he braced one hand against the head of the bed and extended the other toward the cup. It was just out of reach. He pushed himself away from the head of the bed and leaned farther out. His fingers brushed the intricate etching on the silver, but he still couldn't grasp the cup.

"Just a little farther," he muttered, not sure why something as simple as sitting up to get a cup of water should leave him breathless. And dizzy.

He closed his eyes for a second. Then, growling low in frustration, he lunged toward the cup. Too late, he realized he had overbalanced himself. He grabbed at the table, bringing it down with a crash, and would have followed it to the floor if someone hadn't caught him around the middle and pulled him back onto the bed.

"What are you doing, Ed?" Peter stood over him, shaking his head. "Why didn't you call someone?"

Edmund only made a grumbling sound and huddled into the covers as Peter righted the table and picked up the silver cup and pitcher.

"The water's spilt," Romulus said, jumping up on the bed beside him.

Remus leapt onto his chest again. "Do you want us to get some more? We can get some."

"No we can't," his brother told him scornfully. "We don't have thumbs."

"We could carry a bucket by the handle," Remus said.

Edmund grumbled more and pushed him off.

"It's all right," Peter told the Wolves. "I'll get it. You two stay here. And, Eddie, don't try to get up again, understand?"

Edmund pulled the sheet over his head and didn't reply. When the sound of Peter's boots had faded away, he pulled the sheet down again. Both of the Wolves had their noses not two inches from his.

"Hi!" they said in unison.

Edmund groaned and dropped his head back to the pillows.

"Do you still feel bad, King Edmund?" Romulus asked, his brow furrowed with concern. "Do we need to get the healer?"

"No, it's all right. I'm fine."

Remus thrust his nose against Edmund's hand until he managed to get his head under it, and then he pressed his body closer.

Edmund stroked his thick fur. One thing he could count on. Somebody he knew would never betray him.

"Tell me what's been happening since I've been cooped up here," he asked before he further humiliated himself with an unmanly display of tears.

"Queen Susan is taking a nap." Romulus said. "She was here all night with you. And Queen Lucy is making you some soup that you like. For when you wake up."

"He's already awake," Remus said.

Romulus scowled at him. "Then it was a good time for her to make soup, wasn't it?"

"Anybo– anything else I should know about?" Edmund tried to keep the tremor out of his voice.

"General Oreius made sure everybody from the shipwreck got on the Splendor Hyaline to go back home," Romulus offered.

"Everybody?"

It was over. It was for the best. It was all over.

"That man that was hurt," Romulus said, "he's still here." The Wolf leaned closer to Edmund's face, yellow eyes searching. "Is he really your lady's mate?"

Edmund's throat tightened, but he managed to nod. "But she's not my lady. I was confused about that."

Remus lifted his head and leaned it to one side. "Then why has she been crying?"

"What?"

"She cries a lot of the time," Remus said. "And she won't hardly talk to anybody but her cat."

"And her mate," Romulus added. "She takes care of him, and they talk about a lot of stuff. But if anybody gets close to them, she stops."

"Husbands and wives have a lot of private things to talk about," Edmund said, making his voice very stern. "And you shouldn't try to listen in."

"I just wanted to know why she made us think she wanted to be your mate when she already had one." Romulus's brows came down. "That's not right."

His brother frowned at him. "You heard what King Edmund said. We got confused." Remus turned to Edmund, clearly still confused. "How come we got confused? We thought she liked you."

"I know," Edmund said, stroking his ears. "I did, too."

"But if she doesn't like you, how come she cries all the time?"

"What's all this about crying?" Peter asked, his voice hearty as he came into the room with a pitcher and a bowl of hot soup. "King Edmund doesn't need to worry about anybody crying right now, don't you think?"

Both Wolves nodded guiltily.

"I tell you what, why don't you both go down and see if you can help Queen Lucy. She just got through making a cake, and I bet she needs some help deciding what kind of icing to put on it."

Remus's ears perked up. "Chicken! I think it should be chicken!"

"Don't be stupid," Romulus said as they both hurried out the door. "You don't put chicken in icing. It should be liver."

Peter shut the door on their argument and poured out a cup of cold water. It was balm on Edmund's raw throat, but it did nothing to soothe the anguish in his heart.

Peter was good enough to say nothing until Edmund gave him back the cup. Even then, all he did was offer Edmund the soup.

Edmund shook his head.

"Come on, Eddie. It's your favorite. Lu made it especially for you. You don't want to hurt her feelings, do you?"

"First I want you to tell me what's been going on."

Peter shrugged. "Not much. All the survivors of the wreck have been sent home."

"All but one," Edmund said, his mouth a tight line.

"All right, all but one. Bran is recovering. He ought to be able to travel in another day or so."

"What about Elain?"

"Edmund."

"What about her?" Edmund demanded.

Peter exhaled heavily. "What do you want me to say, Ed? She's fine? She's upset. She's worried about you. I don't know how she found out about why you've been sick, but she knows what you did. She's asked about you several times."

"How long have I been here?" Edmund squinted into the winter sunlight that poured through his window. "What day is it?"

"It's Sixthday."

"Sixth?" Edmund frowned. "The wreck was on Firstday night. I've been here what? Four days?"

Peter nodded grimly.

Four days, and Elain had been upset the whole time. Asking after him. Crying. Was it only concern for a friend? Guilt because he had made himself sick because of her? Or was it something more? It couldn't be something more.

Something more was crazy.

Something more was wrong.

 **Author's Note: Oh, Edmund, don't go there. Don't even think it. What is he going to do now?**

 **Thank you, dear readers, for being so patient with me. I'm sorry it's taken so long to get more written. I'm trying to get caught up on real-life stuff, but I'll try very hard to get more of this story written soon. Know I will NEVER abandon a story. Not ever. More to come!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Twenty-Two

"So what are you going to do?"

Edmund blinked, realizing he had been thinking again about Elain and not listening to his brother.

"What are you going to do?" Peter asked again.

"About what?"

"Edmund." Peter frowned at him. "I've been telling you what I found out about _The Arabella_ , Elain's ship."

"I already know. It's dry-docked on Galma."

"True, but you don't know what I found out from the messenger I sent there to get more information."

"What?"

"Well, uh . . . " Peter gave him a sheepish grin. "Not very much, actually."

Edmund scowled. "That's helpful."

"It _is_ interesting though."

"Not very," Edmund admitted.

"Actually, it is. The captain of the ship refuses to give any information about the ship or her cargo to anyone except the man who owns it."

"That's Elain's father. He's dead."

"Exactly," Peter said. "Our Sparrowhawk told him so, and the captain said he didn't believe it, that the owner was hale and hearty last he laid eyes on him, and if he was going to believe the man dead he'd have to hear it from the Lady herself."

"Then she'll have to go there herself."

Peter nodded. "Once Bran is well enough to go, they'll be leaving."

Leaving. Leaving would be best. No use having her here all the time. No use running into her in the garden or in the forest or on the beach. It would be impossible to keep from seeing her. Edmund pressed his lips together. He'd be well soon, too. He couldn't stay huddled up in his bed all the time just to avoid her. He had work to do. Lots of work. The sooner she was gone, the sooner he could get to it. The sooner he could forget her. The sooner it would be over.

A bitter sob caught him unawares, and he forced it into a cough. Peter immediately began patting him on the back and urging him to drink more water.

Edmund pushed the cup away. "I'm all right."

Once again, Peter offered him the soup he had brought up. "Lu did make it especially for you. You ought to at least try."

With a sigh, Edmund took the bowl from him and started to eat. Within a few bites he realized how hungry he really was and how much he enjoyed Lucy's mutton-and-lentil soup. By Aslan, he wasn't going to curl up and die over any of this. He gave Peter a determined smile and ate more. He was King Edmund, King Edmund the Just, not King Edmund the Sniveling.

"Oh, good, you're eating it." Lucy swept into the room with the Wolves on her heels. "You look so much better today. Do you want me to bring you some cake?"

"She wouldn't put chicken in the icing," Remus grumbled.

"Or liver," Romulus added. "Only nasty strawberry."

Lucy leaned down to kiss each of the Wolves' furry heads. "I'll make some special icing just for you as soon as I finish talking to Edmund. How would that be? With sausage."

"You have sausage?" Romulus said with a little gasp.

Remus heavy tail thumped the ground, and he looked up at her with utter adoration. "Sausage?"

She nodded rapidly. "You go down to the kitchen and I'll be there in a little while. Then you can both tell me exactly what you want me to make."

Remus's forehead wrinkled. "But King Peter said–"

"Never mind." Peter patted the Wolf's head. "You've both done a very good job of looking after Edmund. We'll take care of him now. You two go on. You wouldn't want someone else to eat the sausage before you get there."

The Wolves exchanged a horrified glance. Then they looked at Edmund and, finally, back at each other.

"Maybe we'd better not," Romulus said, shamefaced.

Remus dropped his head. "We're supposed to stay with King Edmund."

Edmund bit his lip, forcing himself not to smile. "Go."

Romulus blinked at him. "But–"

"Go!"

Remus took off before the word was even out of his mouth. Romulus was hot after him. Edmund could hear him as he disappeared down the hallway.

"You act like you never had sausage before. You're such a pup."

"I am not a pup!" Remus barked back, and then he couldn't hear them anymore.

Lucy put both hands over her mouth in a futile attempt to cover her giggles. Peter merely shook his head.

"If you're all right for the moment, Ed, I have work to do."

Edmund didn't say anything, but it was more likely he was supposed to take Linnet on a romantic walk or some other such honeymoon nonsense. Stupid honeymoon.

"I'll look after him," Lucy said, "though I'm sure I can't possibly do as good a job as the Wolves."

"You're certainly not as clingy," Peter told her.

"Or as furry," Edmund added.

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Thank goodness for that. Go ahead, Peter. I'll make sure he finishes his soup."

"You're both as bad as Susan," Edmund grumbled.

Peter laughed. "I'll be back to make sure you ate all your food and that your hair isn't too long."

Once he was gone, Lucy pulled up a chair next to Edmund's bed.

"I'm eating!" he said after a minute, and he shoveled in another spoonful of soup. "You don't have to stare at me the whole time."

"I'm not staring." She pushed a lock of his hair back behind his ear, her smiles gone. "I'm just glad you're doing better."

He caught her hand and pressed a quick kiss to the back of it before he released it. "I'm fine. Really. And thank you for taking such good care of me."

She gave him a tiny little smile. "I was worried about you." She ducked her head a little and then turned her eyes up to his, looking somehow like the little Lucy who had first come to Narnia. "I'm not the only one."

He knew Susan had worried about him, too, but that's not who Lucy was talking about just now. He looked down into his soup bowl.

"Did she say something to you?" he said, his voice half choked.

"Not really. I can tell she's upset, but all she said was that she hoped you'd be well again soon and that she feels terrible about this misunderstanding."

He squeezed his stinging eyes shut. Misunderstanding? No, it was all right. It was a misunderstanding. It was nothing more than foolish presumption on his part, and he wasn't going to let it ruin his life. He would get past this. By Aslan, he would.

"Do me a favor and tell her that I appreciate her concern and that I'm nearly well already."

"All right," Lucy said, and there was pity in her voice.

"How–" He swallowed hard and started again. "How is her husband?"

"He's nearly well, too. Still kind of weak, but he should be able to travel in a few days."

"Good."

Edmund stared into his soup again and then set it on the table beside the bed.

Lucy frowned. "Are you sure you can't eat more? You really need to get your strength back."

He only shrugged.

"Oh, Edmund." She threw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely. "Please don't be sad. I know it hurts, but it's not your fault."

"Whose then?" He shrugged away from her. "If somebody's too stupid to realize somebody else doesn't care about him, whose fault is it?"

"You aren't stupid. We all thought she cared for you. I still think she does. I don't think she meant to, I'm sure she didn't, but she couldn't help it. Not after you were so nice to her. And so sweet." She patted his cheek. "And so charming."

"Get off," he grumbled.

"Well, you were. She told me she didn't expect to be here for more than a day or two. She didn't think she'd get to like you so much so quickly, and then she didn't want to hurt your feelings by telling you about her husband. I know she feels bad about that. She's really quite a nice girl, and she'd never mean to deceive anyone. I know–"

"You _don't_ know, Lucy." Susan came into the room and immediately put one hand on Edmund's forehead. "You're cooler now. That's good." She cleared the abandoned soup to a table on the other side of the room and then sat on the side of Edmund's bed. "Anyway, Lu, you don't know. You really don't. Yes, Edmund can be very charming when he wants to be and he is a King after all, but it's obvious she loves her husband and he loves her. And he _is_ her husband after all. Maybe she was a little bit infatuated, and maybe she didn't mean to be deceptive, but she was at the least very thoughtless not to tell Edmund about him. And you shouldn't be here worrying Edmund over her when he needs to forget about her entirely." Susan turned a gentle smile on her brother, stroking one soft hand down the back of his hair. "I'm so sorry things turned out like this. But now that you know–"

He shrugged her off as he had Lucy. "I'm all right, Su. Really. I did fine on my own before I met her. I'll do fine from now on without her. Aslan brought us here to care for the kingdom, not to go swanning about with girls all the time. I'm sorry I've been such a ninny about all this, but it's over. I have work to do, and the sooner I get back to it, the better."

Neither of the girls looked as if she believed him.

He scowled at them. "Fine. I'll stay here in bed and pout for another three months. Will that make you both happy?"

Lucy pursed her lips.

"You always were a terrible patient." Susan kissed his forehead and stood up. "Come on, Lu. I understand there are two Wolves waiting for you in the kitchen."

Lucy stood too. "I suppose he ought to rest." She kissed the top of Edmund's head. "I'll send Romulus and Remus back to you once they've had their cake."

She picked up the soup bowl, and after Susan tucked the covers up around Edmund's shoulders, the two girls left Edmund on his own.

All right, that hadn't been so very hard. He had managed to talk to Lucy _and_ Susan and assure them that he wasn't going to fall apart any time soon. Elain would be gone before long, and he would go back to his normal life. He could do this. He could do this. He could–

His throat tightened around a painful sob, but he refused to let it escape. Instead, he threw the coverlet off and pushed himself out of bed. It was time he stopped lying around like a great baby. He'd been cooped up here far too long.

His brother and sisters would most likely have been horrified to see it, but he threw open the doors to his balcony, admitting a fierce blast of cold wind that cleared his head and sharpened all his senses. It was good. It was all very good.

He knew that, after being as sick as he had been, he shouldn't stay long, and he was about to return to his chamber when he heard someone calling from the garden below.

"Where are you? Come on, Adina. Come on, kitty."

He froze where he was. Elain. He tried to fight the desperate, foolish desire to catch a glimpse of her, knowing he ought to return to his chamber and shut the doors against the winter, against her, but somehow he couldn't do it. He merely stood there, listening to her calling to her cat, knowing in another moment or two she would come into view.

"Adina?"

Her eyes were focused on the ground. It was unlikely she'd notice him, so he moved a little closer to the stone railing. She looked pale and cold and troubled, just as she had in the cave in that snowy pass from Archenland the night they had met. No, he wouldn't think back to then. He would just step back into his chamber and shut the doors. He would–

She looked up just then, and her soft lips parted in a startled gasp. Tears sprang to her mahogany eyes, but she blinked them away, replacing the longing, the brokenheartedness, with a gentle, regretful smile.

He started to say something to her, but then there came another voice. Deeper. More strident. Her husband.

"Elain, there you are."

Edmund stepped back into the shadow of his doorway, not wanting to be seen.

"Bran." Elain hurried to him. "I was looking for Adina. Have you seen her?"

"Last I saw her, she was in one of the sunny windows in the main corridor. Is she not still there?"

"I don't know. I came through the kitchens."

"You'd best look for her inside then. At lest she has wit enough to stay where it's warm."

She didn't even smile at his playful jab, and he wrapped her in his arms.

"Come along now," he said, his voice suddenly tender. "We'll be leaving soon, and all this will be behind us."

"Bran–" she began, but he only shushed her.

"We'll do better away from this place."

Edmund froze as Bran lifted his head to look around the garden, but the man merely smiled down into Elain's eyes and pulled her closer.

"Come along, wife, before we're both frozen."

With that, he kissed her lips and hurried her away.

Edmund stood there unmoving until he could no longer hear the crunch of their boots in the snow. Bran was right, they'd do better somewhere else. Somewhere far away.

The air was suddenly painful in his lungs, and he began to cough. Stupid. He had too much work to do to get sick again. He walked back into his chamber and locked the doors behind him. Then he wrapped himself in a blanket and huddled near the fire, wondering if he'd ever be warm again.

 **Author's Note: Oh dear, Edmund seems a bit conflicted. What now?**

 **Happy belated birthday to Lady Alambiel. I'm sorry this is late, but I hope you like it anyway. Thank you again for lending me your dear Wolves.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Twenty-Three

Edmund was still huddled by his fire, dour and brooding, when he heard his door open. The hinges were kept well oiled, so there was only the slightest swishing sound and then the near-silent pad of footsteps. He didn't move. Didn't turn.

There was only quiet.

Edmund sighed. "I know you're there, Peter." He turned, glaring up at his brother, but Peter only looked at him uncertainly. "What is it?"

"He's asked if he can have a word with you," Peter said. "Her husband."

Bran. Couldn't he just leave? Couldn't he and Elain just and go away and leave him to lick his wounds.

"What does he want?" Edmund asked with more of an edge to his voice than he expected.

"I don't know. He just asked to speak to you. Do you want me to handle it for you?"

Yes. Yes, that would be good. Edmund didn't want to deal with him, didn't want to think of him or Elain ever again. Peter could handle it. Or someone else could see to whatever it is Bran wanted. Someone else could–

 _You._

It was only one word, soft and low, but there was nothing ambivalent in it. It was as clear and direct as if the Great Lion had been standing next to him.

Edmund squeezed his eyes shut. Why couldn't this be one of those times he didn't know what Aslan wanted him to do?

"Edmund?" Peter pressed. "Do you want me to–"

"I'll take care of it." With a sigh, Edmund clutched his blanket around his shoulders and stood up. "Give me about ten minutes and then send him up."

"Ed, if you'd rather not . . . "

Peter looked at him sympathetically, and Edmund shook his head.

"I'll take care of it. Just give me a few minutes."

Peter nodded, gave his shoulder a comforting pat, and then left him alone.

Edmund stood where he was for a moment more. Listening for another word from the Great Lion, waiting for some kind of explanation, but there was nothing. Obviously, what He had already said was perfectly clear.

"Why?" Edmund wadded his blanket into a ball and hurled it into the middle of his bed. "Why do You want me to see him? Why do You want me to be around either of them? I know I can't have her. I know I have to let her go. Why won't You let me let her go?"

Again there was nothing. Aslan had already told him what he needed to know. It wasn't about him, about what he wanted, it was about loving her unselfishly. It was about seeing she was cared for and safe. What else could Bran want to speak to him about but her?

Fine.

Edmund dressed himself in black. It made him look paler than usual, even paler than a few days in bed had done. That wouldn't do. He was not going to let anyone know how difficult this was for him, especially not Elain's husband.

He went to his washbasin, gave his face a resolute scrub in cold water, and then slicked back his hair. That was better. He didn't need his crown in order to look like a King.

He had just sat down in one of the damask-covered armchairs by the fire when there was a knock at the door.

"Yes?" he called, relieved when his voice came out calm and even. "Come in."

The door opened. As he had expected, Bran was standing on the other side of it.

"Your Majesty." Bran looked even paler than Edmund felt, and his deep bow was a little stiff. That shoulder was still bothering him. "The High King said I might have a brief word with you. I hope I don't intrude."

"Not at all. Please, sit there where you can warm yourself. Are you certain you shouldn't spend a few days more in bed?"

"The Lady of the River is displeased with me, I'm afraid, since that was the advice she also gave."

"Arethusa doesn't like to be gainsaid by her patients," Edmund said. "Even the royal ones."

Bran smiled a little. "Be that as it may, my wife and I must be going soon, and I haven't the leisure to idle away my time. We have _The Arabella_ to see to, if there's anything left of her, and once we know how fortune has favored us, we must find a place to settle."

Edmund narrowed his eyes, just very slightly. "You will not return to Archenland?"

"That . . . will not be possible. We disposed of all our holdings there in the hope that we might begin anew in a place that will prove more suitable to us."

"I see. And how might I be of service to you both?"

"My lady tells me I have been very ill mannered since I was pulled from the sea. She has told me again and again of all the kindnesses you and your family have shown her and assures me that none of the tales we have heard of you are true."

Edmund lifted one eyebrow. "Tales?"

"Our home being so near Calormen, we often hear the news from Tashbaan and the farther provinces. There, it is commonly believed that Narnia is peopled by demons in animal form, with Aslan the greatest and most terrible. You and your brother and sister are held to be the ministers of His evil, and you, forgive me, Your Majesty, you are said to be the most wicked of them all."

Edmund gave him a little wry grin. "Yes, so I've heard."

"You must understand, King Edmund, we have heard enough from the court of King Lune at Anvard to know that these things are mere superstition."

"I am grateful for even small favors."

"But," Bran said, and his expression was now very grave, "there are things we have heard that were perhaps not so impossible, especially knowing the decrees that came at that time from Cair Paravel itself, things that made me fear when I heard my– my wife had come into your kingdom."

Edmund forced himself to not look away. Yes, there was that, that dark time when he was accused of treason against Peter, against Narnia, against Aslan Himself. The accusations had been vile, unnatural, abominable to himself and in the sight of the Great Lion. Worse yet had been the looks in the eyes of Peter and Susan, hurt, disbelief, disgust, and the heartbroken bewilderment even Lucy could not conceal. Little wonder someone from Calormen or near there, someone who had heard only the gossip that had spread like wildfire throughout the south, would look at Edmund with a wary eye.

"If," Edmund said coolly, "you would like to make specific accusations, I will do my best to lay before you the truth."

"No, My Lord, I beg you. Please understand. I have not come here to accuse you of anything, only to explain my earlier mistrust. From what Elain tells me, from what I have seen with my own eyes of your brother and sisters and of those who best know you, from the honorable way you treated my wife when she was helpless and alone, I can see those accusations for the lies they must have been. I apologize for bringing up a subject that must be so painful for you, but slight as it might be, it is the only justification I have for my churlish behavior. I merely came to ask your pardon, to thank you for all you have done, and on behalf of myself and my lady, to bid you farewell."

"Where will you go?" Edmund asked. "I mean, after you've seen to _The Arabella_?"

"As I said, that will depend on what we find aboard our ship. If she has been fortunate, we will find a suitable place to settle on one of the Lone Islands. Felimath or Avra most likely."

"And if she has returned empty?"

Bran gave him an uncertain smile. "Then we shall find some means to earn our bread. Still on the islands, I believe. But we cannot go forward until we have been to Galma and seen the state of our fortune."

 _You._

This time the word was only a recollection, but it was as urgent as if the Lion had just spoken it.

"How will you go?" Edmund asked, careful to keep his tone casual.

"Before the rest of the refugees left Cair Paravel, I spoke to Fadiman, first mate of _The Issus_. He said I might speak to a Captain Zoudek who is docked here, mention I was a friend of Fadiman's, and he might be willing to let me work to pay for our crossing to Galma. After that, well, as I said, it all depends on what we find there."

No, it wouldn't do. Edmund couldn't allow Elain to go aboard some filthy scow to cook and scrub for the salacious and profane sort of crew that typically sailed to the islands. She had already been subjected to too much just getting from Archenland to Narnia. And how would she and her husband live once they reached their destination? Too often such hapless travelers ended up in the hands of the slavers that blighted the islands.

"I fear our _Splendor Hyaline_ is already engaged in returning our refugees to their homes," he said, watching the other man's face.

"I understand that, Your Majesty, and I realize that it is in no way your responsibility–"

"However," Edmund said, "my sister Lucy has a smaller ship that might well suit such a trip. I'm sure she would be delighted for it to take you to Galma and then on to the Lone Islands, whichever of them you prefer. After all, Aslan did put the seas into her especial charge."

"Truly, sir, it is too much to ask."

"You didn't ask," Edmund told him. "I offered. It is the least I can do after our earlier misunderstanding."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, and please do not think me ungrateful, but my wife and I must leave as soon as possible. I understand Zoudek's ship sets sail in two day's time."

"And Lucy's can be ready by morning."

Bran looked at him for a long moment. Edmund thought once that he was going to say something, he was sure of it, but he never did.

"Well?" Edmund asked finally. "Are we off to Galma or not?"

Bran blinked at him. "We, sir?"

If possible, Edmund was more surprised than he was. The words had come out of his mouth unbidden. More of them followed.

"Arethusa has advised me that a change would do me good. Besides, Lucy doesn't care for her ship to be taken out to sea if at least one of the four of us isn't aboard her. It was a gift from the High King, to make up for the one she lost back when I was . . . out of favor."

Bran looked bewildered, and Edmund merely shook his head. It was a very convenient excuse.

"It's a very long story," he said, "and I'd rather not think back on it just now. But if you and your wife will allow me, I would be pleased to accompany you to Galma and then to the Islands. If things have turned out well for you, then I can make introductions to our friends there and advise you on what you might best do once you are settled. If not, then I happen to know of a pleasant villa on the coast of Avra that is not currently in use. Like the ship, it belongs to my sister. She has been urging me to go there for a while, just to have a respite from my duties, and I think I will accept her offer. Of course, I couldn't stay more than a day or two, just to see you were settled, but at least Lucy won't be able to say I completely refused to take her advice. Naturally, you two would be welcome to stay there for as long as you like. No obligation whatsoever."

"Your Majesty, you overwhelm me. Why should you make such an offer after the pain I know you have suffered, even unwittingly, at our hands?"

In some grim way, Edmund looked forward to this. It would be the end, the last, and he could look back on it and see that, in spite of everything, he had treated Elain and the man she loved with generosity and kindness. Maybe, as best he could show it now, even with love, not the passionate kind, but the selfless kind. He could stand before the Great Lion and know he had done all He had asked.

Somehow, he dredged up a smile. "As I once told your lady, Aslan has given us far more than we could have asked or have thought to ask. Should we not share it? And after He has helped us through so much, should we not do what we can to help others?"

Bran nodded, ducking his head. "You are most gracious, Your Majesty. I realize I can never repay your kindness except with many thanks."

"Tomorrow then?" Edmund asked, standing up and holding out his hand.

Bran got to his feet and took that hand in a strong clasp. "Tomorrow."

 **Author's Note: Well now what has Edmund gotten himself into? For those of you wondering about those rumors and incidents Bran was referring to, check out my story** _ **Counted Among the Traitors**_ **. That will tell you everything. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. I hope to be quicker next time. Reviews are love.**


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Twenty-Four

Edmund leaned against the rail of _The Morning Glory_ , watching as the misty outline of Galma appeared on the horizon. He had never enjoyed the early morning, but just now it was good to be here with the rays of the new sun throwing the long shadows of the mast and sails over the deck and the calm sea, knowing he wasn't likely to encounter anyone but the Animals and Dwarfs and Men of the crew and, perhaps, her Satyr captain. They were too busied with the work of preparing to dock to do more than offer a cheery good morning and hurry on by. That was good.

It was enough for him to have spent time in such close quarters with Elain and her husband without having to convince everyone else what a jolly mood he was in. And he was getting really tired of having to explain to his Wolves that Elain was never going to be his mate, no matter what it had seemed like before. Good thing they were still in his cabin sleeping off the enormous amount of roast venison Elain had smuggled to them last night. She hadn't seemed much interested in eating it or much of anything else herself.

Edmund had been especially careful not to speak to her unless Bran was present, and except for the occasional wistfulness in her eyes and the touch of sorrow in her smile, he saw no indication that she wanted it any other way. That was as it ought to be. She was married, and from all accounts her husband was a fine fellow, brave, honorable, and likeable. Little wonder she loved him so much. If it hadn't been for this idiotic misunderstanding with Elain, Edmund could have seen himself fast friends with the man. As it was, he wanted nothing from either of them but to see them happily settled where he would never have to hear of them again.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply of the salt air, remembering Aslan's words to him after he had found out Elain was married. He would do as the Great Lion had asked. He would see she was cared for because he loved her. And he did love her. Somehow that had never changed. No matter how he had pleaded for that impossible love to be taken from him, no matter how he had tried to will it away, it was still there. No matter how much he pretended otherwise.

He clung to the rail, eyes narrowed as he stared out toward the growing outline of the island, willing it to hurry closer, willing this torture to end. But it wouldn't end. He knew it already. It would be like the phantom pain of an amputated limb, always with him.

 _Trust that I will see that you have all that you need and more than you could ask in return._

Those were Aslan's words, His promise. Edmund believed Him, and yet . . .

How could someone else take Elain's place in his heart? He hadn't known her all that long, but from the very first there had been something about her that fit into his heart and life as no other girl ever had. He didn't doubt that someday, many years from now, he'd meet someone else, some nobly born lady fair of face and graceful in manner, who would make him a suitable Queen. And he would, no doubt, care for her and make a pleasant life for them both. It was the proper thing to do, and Edmund would do it, even he bled inwardly every day for the rest of his life.

 _More than you could ask._

What did it mean? All he could ask, all that he wanted, was to have Elain back at his side, his own, his wife. What "more" could Aslan give him when what he wanted was impossible?

 _Trust._

"Help me," he pled through gritted teeth, clinging more tightly to the rail. "Help me get through this."

He felt a nudge at his ankle, and for an instant he thought it might be the Great Lion Himself, but it was only Adina, Elain's tabby cat. She had spent the whole voyage hiding in Elain's cabin, so it was odd that she would come on deck now, odd that she would seek him out.

She rubbed her head against his boot, purring loudly enough for him to hear it even over the sounds of the wind and the sea. Perhaps Aslan had sent her. He had sent a cat to guide him before, though Edmund had never been sure if He had sent the cat or had _been_ the cat. If He had sent Adina now, what was His reason? To remind Edmund He was with him? To comfort him?

Edmund picked up the tabby and cuddled her close. There was comfort here, whether or not it was intended. He would get through this. Aslan was with him. He didn't need to see Elain more than a time or two in the next couple of days, and then he could head back home knowing he had done what was right. Knowing, despite how he was feeling now, that he would heal and the memory of this imprudent love would fade. He would will it to. He would–

"Edmund?"

The word went through his heart like a dagger, but he didn't turn around.

"King Edmund?"

The voice was closer now, soft and uncertain, and his arms tightened around the cat.

"I was looking for Adina. I don't know how she got out here."

He forced his expression into one of polite congeniality and finally turned. Elain stood not a yard away from him, her auburn hair in a thick braid down her back and her simple white gown billowing in the wind. She reminded him somehow of a Naiad he had once seen, many years ago. She had been standing at the foot of a waterfall with the river rushing white around her, her eyes dark with sorrow, though what that sorrow was, he had never heard.

"Good morning," he said, handing Adina back to Elain. "I was a little surprised to see her myself, but there's no harm done."

She held the cat against her shoulder, not looking at him. Not speaking. Not leaving.

"That's Galma," he said finally, gesturing toward the island. "We ought to be there before long, and then you and Bran can see for yourselves what's become of your father's ship."

She only nodded.

"I suppose I ought to prepare for going ashore," he said after another awkward moment. "If you'll excuse me."

"Please." She caught his arm as he tried to pass her, and the touch sent a searing flame through him. "Wait just a minute."

He managed to keep the indifferently pleasant expression on his face. "Is there something I might do for you, Lady?"

"Only listen to me. Please. Just for a moment."

He allowed himself a slight smile, indulgent, faintly regretful, not wounded. "Truly, Lady, there is no need to speak of what is past. We neither of us intended any harm, and now that matters are clear between us, there is nothing more to be said."

"I never got to talk to you. To explain. To tell you how very sorry I am that I hurt you."

"I understand," he told her. "I understand all I need to understand." His heart softened a little at the pleading and pain in her eyes. Aslan help him, he still loved her. "Please, Lady, do not trouble yourself over anything that has been between us. I wish you and Bran nothing but well. I hope you find _The Arabella_ returned laden with riches and that you both will live happily wherever you choose to settle. And know, Lady, that the time we spent together is something I will keep as one of the jewels of my memory."

With a little sob, she buried her face against the cat's side.

"No," he murmured, putting one hand over hers. "Don't cry. Please."

She looked up at him, her mahogany eyes still pleading. "You shouldn't be so kind to me. How can you be after all that's happened?"

He gave her a wry little smile. "I didn't take the news as well as I might have, I suppose, but I have been given a promise."

She sniffled. "A promise?"

"Aslan." The thought of the Lion made him feel stronger, and some of the pain went away. "He said He would give me all I need and more than I could ask. If only I would trust him."

"What does that mean?" she asked, her soft lower lip quivering.

"I suppose it means that He'll sort things out, one way or the other, and whatever happens will turn out better than whatever I've thought up."

She looked down at the cat. "Then He will send you someone who will love you and not grieve you as I have."

"He didn't exactly say that," Edmund admitted. "But if there is someone who could love me with her whole heart, someone I could love and in all honor make my wife and my Queen, I trust He will send her to me in His good time."

She clutched his hand, a sudden warm light in her eyes. "And you believe He will do such a thing for– for you?"

"If that is His will. He alone knows what is best and what lies ahead. As much as I try to confine him with my small imagination, He always seems to have something more wonderful in mind." Edmund winced. "It's just that it's not always easy to wait and trust."

Her fingers tightened on his. "Wait," she told him. "Trust. You have told me He is good and that He cares for you. If that is so, He will make things right. He will send this one who loves you to you, and I pray it shall be very soon. For her sake and for yours."

Before he could reply, there was a loud caw from the Crow's nest announcing Galma's docks not far off the bow.

"We'll be going ashore soon," he said.

She released his hand. "Yes. I had better go prepare. Bran will be looking for me."

In a moment, she and the cat were gone, and Edmund was left standing on the deck with the crew bustling around him, preparing to land. Wait and trust.

He turned again to the rail, clutching it as he closed his eyes and prayed for strength.

 **Author's Note: Hey! I'm not dead! I realize this is short, but it will have to do for now. More as soon as I can. I'd love to know what you think. Reviews are love.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Twenty-Five

It was some while before _The Morning Glory_ actually landed on Galma and her passengers were able to disembark. It was some while longer before Edmund and his Wolves returned to the rather shabby dockside inn where he had left Bran and Elain. Fortunately it was still early in the day, too early for more than a few of the Galmians to be indulging in wine and ale.

"Have you found her?" Bran asked, standing up from the well-worn trestle table where he sat with Elain, waking the cat sleeping next to her. "Have you found _The Arabella_?"

Elain looked at him, her dark eyes questioning and apprehensive.

"The ship, yes." Edmund dropped onto the bench across from them and slapped his leather gloves onto the table, making two hard-drinking men in the opposite corner turn and stare. "The captain, no."

"What?" Bran and Elain both said at once.

"We found your ship," Remus said, laying his furry chin on Elain's lap and looking up at her with wide yellow eyes, "but there wasn't anyone there."

"And there wasn't any treasure in it," Romulus added with a little huff.

"There wasn't anything in it," Remus told them.

"But the captain?" Bran asked Edmund as he sat down again. "Who's looking after _The Arabella_?"

"She's dry docked, as we were told," Edmund said. "The mast is broken clean off and there's a lot of damage to her hull and rigging, but the man in charge of the crew doing the repairs said he was stopping work until he's paid something. He said the captain hasn't been seen for two or three days, nor the crew, and like as not he's been left with that worthless scow."

Bran bristled.

"Not my words," Edmund said, holding up both hands.

"But she couldn't have come back empty," Bran protested. "Even if the venture failed, there must have been things that belonged to the crew, to the captain, ships stores, I don't know what else. But empty?"

"Clean as a whistle." Edmund ordered a mug of cider from one of the barmaids. "Now it's possible the captain paid off the crew and let them go, knowing they'd have nothing to do until the repairs were done. But the captain?"

"The captain wouldn't have left her," Bran insisted. "He's a loyal man, loyal to our house, loyal to–"

"Loyal to my father," Elain said, giving her husband a hard look.

"Yes," Bran said, calming a little. "Captain Hoxa wouldn't have abandoned _The Arabella_. He would have insisted on seeing Elain's father or, hearing he was dead, Elain herself, before he would leave her. Hoxa wouldn't–"

"Hoxa?" said a thin, reedy voice. "Captain Hoxa?"

Edmund turned to see a little man with pale eyes and flabby lips snatch a wool cap off his balding head. Edmund knew him from somewhere. From the shipwreck, that was it. Grimly? Galby?

"Gorby," he said aloud. "You were at Cair Paravel."

The pale eyes widened. "King Edmund. I did not expect to see you here. I was sent to the owner of _The Arabella_. I was told he was asking after her captain and sent to fetch him."

"To Captain Hoxa?" Bran asked.

Gorby narrowed his eyes. "What is your part here?" he asked. "You were on _The Issus_ when she sank. Your name's Dougal. I came to find Master Teague, the apothecary. _The Arabella_ is his by right, and all she brought with her."

"Master Teague is dead," Elain said, with a defiant lift of her chin. "By right the ship is mine now."

Gorby lifted his sparse eyebrows. "And you are?"

She opened her mouth and then shut it again, glancing fearfully at Bran.

"If you know where Hoxa is," Bran snapped, "tell us. He will know who has right to the ship."

"You say _The Arabella_ returned with cargo," Edmund said, wondering why Elain hadn't simply told the man she was the apothecary's daughter. "What was it? And where is it?"

The little man clasped his splayed-fingered hands over his heart. "Your Majesty, Your Majesty, I am but a humble messenger. If you want answers for what you ask, you must come to the captain. He knows. I do not."

Edmund's Wolves were pressing against his legs now, letting him know they felt his apprehension, letting him know they were on alert.

"How do we know you come from him at all?" he asked. "How did you come here in the first place? I thought you went on the _Splendor Hyaline_ back to Tashbaan."

"And from Tashbaan to Galma," Gorby said smoothly, "where I met Captain Hoxa. I cannot tell you much more of him, I fear. I happened upon him again this evening near _The Arabella_. He had heard he was being sought and would have come to you himself, but the knave who has charge of the ship would not hear of him leaving again until he had some payment for his work."

Remembering his conversation with the man earlier, Edmund could well believe that. Still...

"How do we know you come from Hoxa?" he pressed.

Gorby fished in the pocket of his stained coat and pulled out a string of little white shells. "Perhaps the lady will know this? He said to show it to you if you had any doubts."

Elain looked at Bran.

Bran nodded in return. "It's Hoxa's. We have seen it many times."

"Very well," Edmund said, but he didn't like it. He didn't like this little eel of a man. How could it be that he had he come from the shipwreck at Cair Paravel and just happened to be here now, at the very same time Edmund and Elain and Bran were here?

"So, you will come?" Gorby said.

"We will be here," Edmund told him. "If you will be good enough to tell Captain Hoxa where we are and that we would like to speak to him, I will see you are well rewarded."

"But, Your Majesty." Gorby spread out his hands to indicate the less-than-private surroundings. "Surely this business is not for all the world to hear."

The two men in the corner pretended to stop listening.

"I will bespeak a room for us. I'm sure the landlord has a place we might speak in private. You see to your part in the matter, and I will see to the rest."

Again Gorby clasped his hands over his heart. "As you will, Your Majesty. As you will."

"I don't like it," Bran said when he was gone. "Why didn't Hoxa just come to us?"

"I don't know," Edmund admitted, "but I don't like it either. At least this way, we won't be led where we don't want to go."

The barmaid, a stocky little woman with enough hair on her chin to indicate there was some Dwarf blood in her, finally brought Edmund his cider.

"Tell me," he said, and he laid a gold coin on the table, "is there a room we might use for a short while. No more than an hour, I would venture to say."

The woman smiled as she took his money. "There is, sir, the Oak Parlor as the master likes to call it, and it was a fine thing in its day, sir. A fine thing."

"I'm sure it was. And it would be where?"

She nodded toward an open door behind him. Ground floor, then. Windows looking out over the muddy street in front of the inn. Good. Very good. There should be no reason to expect trouble, but somehow Edmund felt it coming all the same. Romulus and Remus were pressing even closer to him. They could feel it, too.

"May we use the parlor now?" Edmund asked the barmaid.

"Just as you please, sir. I'll go and tidy it up straight."

"No need," he assured her. "It will be fine."

"As you say. And will the other gentleman and lady be wanting anything?"

Edmund looked over at Bran and Elain.

"No," Bran said, his tone almost curt.

Elain merely shook her head.

"Just the room, thank you," Edmund said, and then he picked up his mug. "I'll take this along."

"Very good, sir."

"And there will be a Captain Hoxa coming to meet us in a little while. If you will let him know where we are, I will thank you for it."

"I will, sir, and no worries."

She took the second coin he offered and bustled away.

Edmund escorted the others into the Oak Parlor, a shabby little room that may have been fine in its day as the barmaid had said, but its day must have come and gone some ages before. Still, it would do. Elain sat herself in a faded green armchair next to the crackling hearth and settled Adina in her lap. Edmund gave her a small, encouraging smile that seemed to ease the apprehension in her eyes, but then he turned resolutely to the windows and surveyed the street. Comforting her was her husband's job. Bran came to stand next to him and the Wolves.

"Why didn't she tell Gorby her father was the owner of The Arabella?" Edmund asked him, his voice low.

Bran glanced over at Elain and then turned back to Edmund. "I don't trust the man. I didn't like him when we sailed from Tashbaan. He was a pitiful coward when the ship was going down. I don't like his being here now. There's something not right about it."

Edmund made him no reply. He felt the same way.

No one said much for the next hour or so. The Wolves growled at everyone who passed the inn, but no one came inside except for one old Galmian who looked as if he must have indulged in plenty of ale wherever he had just come from. Eventually, Remus fell asleep with his head on Edmund's boot. Romulus looked down on him in disgust.

"Pup."

Hiding a smile, Edmund put one hand on the Wolf's head. "Shh. You be on watch now. In a little while, he can take your place."

With a sigh, Bran leaned against the window frame and rubbed his shoulder. Edmund didn't ask him about it. It would be strange if it wasn't still sore, but the Naiad Arethusa had assured him Bran was on the mend.

"Why don't you both sit down," Elain said a quarter of an hour later. "It makes me nervous to have you both standing there like–"

She broke off when Romulus started to growl. Remus leapt to his feet, growling, too.

Gorby was striding along the street toward them accompanied by a figure in a hooded cloak. Edmund frowned. It seemed unlikely that a sea captain would wear such a garment. There wasn't much of him visible apart from the cloak and hood. Nothing but his–

"Bran," Edmund said. "Tell me quickly, is Captain Hoxa Calormene?"

"From Terebinthia," Bran said, looking swiftly out the window, but the two men had already passed them and come into the inn. "Why?"

His only answer was a knock on the parlor door.

"Your pardon, sir," the barmaid said, letting herself in, "but the gentlemen you mentioned have arrived."

She stepped back to admit Gorby and the other man, the man wearing shoes that turned up at the toes. Bran saw it now and swiftly put himself between Elain and the visitors. Then he put his right hand on his left forearm. Edmund remembered seeing the pile Bran's few possessions after the shipwreck. Among them had been a dagger sheath designed to be concealed in his sleeve. Edmund, his hand on the hilt of his own sword, took a step forward.

The man in the cloak laughed. "I did not credit what this miserable toad told me, but I see it is true. Well met, King Edmund of Narnia."

He put back his hood, revealing a cruel, dark face, coarsened by indulgence and full of cunning.

Edmund smiled faintly and made a courtly bow. "Solak Tarkaan. I hardly expected to see the thirty-seventh son of the Tisroc (may he receive in full the just reward for each of his noteworthy deeds) in so humble a place. But how have we been deemed worthy of such an honor?"

Solak made his own bow, elaborate and ridiculous after the Calormine fashion, and then held out one hand toward Elain. "I have come, great King, to claim my wife."

 **Author's Note: Um, what?**


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Twenty-Six

 _Wife?_

Edmund gaped at the smugly smiling Calormene prince. His wife? Surely he had misheard. Surely this could not be happening again. Elain was Bran's wife. Or was she?

He glanced at Bran and saw the blade from the sheath on his forearm was now in his hand, and his face was hard and determined as he brandished it. Behind him, Elain still clung to her cat, but her eyes were fixed on Edmund, pleading, remorseful, terrified. What was this and exactly what was he supposed to do?

 _Aslan_ , he begged silently, but his prayer was cut short. Elain's expression grew as hard and determined as Bran's and, if possible, even angrier. She set the cat on the chair by the fire and then thrust Bran out of the way.

"I am not your wife," she spat at the Calormene, looking fiercely up into his face. "I made no pledge to you and I swear I will do away with myself before I ever make one."

Solak Tarkaan chuckled indulgently as he looked her up and down, and then he turned again to Bran. "As I said, I have come to claim my wife. I will take her with me now."

The crack of her palm across his face echoed in the small room, making the cat dive under the chair and all three men jump. The pale, eel-like little man who had come with Solak to the inn peered out, eyes bulging, from behind him, but dared not move for fear of the suddenly bristling Wolves. The Calormene grabbed Elain's wrist, making her cry out, and Bran lunged toward him, brandishing his blade. Edmund shoved them apart and pulled Elain from between them.

"Please, Lady, this is no way to sort out this tangle. Romulus, Remus, stand down."

The Wolves, still growling and wary, obeyed.

Elain shrank against Edmund, rubbing her reddened wrist, her eyes now full of tears. "Don't let him. Please. Edmund–"

"Wait," he said, his voice low. "Wait."

Solak and Bran stood glaring at each other, both of them panting and wary.

"Put it down," Edmund said.

Bran didn't move, didn't return his blade to its sheath, didn't take his eyes from the Tarkaan.

"Put it down," Edmund repeated, and Bran finally lowered it, but he did not put it away.

"You were ever the wise diplomat, King Edmund." Solak smoothed back his oiled black hair and, with a cool smile, made a courtly flourish with his long-fingered hands. "My father, the Tisroc (may he live forever), may have his differences with the court and the High King of Narnia, but you and I, Just King, we are as alike as brothers. Justice and honor are to us more precious than life."

Edmund couldn't suppress the tiniest of smirks. "That may be so, Solak Tarkaan, though we may differ on the meaning of those words."

"But the law, great King. The law. Surely it must be upheld."

Edmund narrowed his eyes, waiting for him to continue.

"The law be hanged and this jackanapes with him," Bran spat. "He'll not take her."

He brandished the blade again, but now it trembled in his hand and he was forced to support it with the other.

"Don't be a fool," Edmund hissed, knowing the man still wasn't fully recovered from his injuries in the shipwreck that had brought him to Narnia and to Elain. "Wait."

Solak gave Bran a look of disdainful pity. "The hothead does not trouble me, great King. I know I am in the right, and you will know it, too. I bring only peace and good will to Narnia and her people and come only in a lawful cause. You shall judge for yourself, and then there will be no more than for me to take what is mine and return to my palace in Tashbaan."

"He has the agreement." Gorby, the slimy little eel, peered out from behind the Calormene again, his reedy voice high and quavering. "I have seen it."

"It is all in order, by the laws of Calormen and Archenland." Solak presented an impressive looking document adorned at the bottom with many seals and signatures. "Witnessed by the Lord Mayor of the girl's own town and seven of its aldermen. It is quite legal and binding."

Edmund scanned over it. There, with a number of flourishes and Calormene embellishments, was signed _Solak Tarkaan, of the Sons of the Tisroc (may he live forever) the Thirty-Seventh_. Below that, and above the stately inscription _Jeremiah Pennythwaite, Lord Mayor_ , and seven other Archenlandish names Edmund didn't recognize, was an unsteady scrawl. He had to squint to make it out. _B. Teague, Apothecary_. Elain's father, from what he understood.

He slapped the document onto the little round table next to the green chair. "I don't see the lady's signature here."

"You see her father's," Solak said. "There is nothing else required."

"You deceived him," Bran growled. "You waited until I was away and convinced him to make the bargain without her knowledge. All she knew was that you were to provide the money for _The Arabella's_ venture. And when the ship returned with the goods she sought, you were to have your money again with advantage."

"And if she did not," Solak purred. "I was to be repaid another way."

"You deceived him," Bran repeated. "You made him think you were an honorable man and that Elain would be taken care of. You made him sign that abomination before I could return from Tashbaan and tell him what kind of man, what kind of filthy swine, you truly are."

Solak only chuckled at the insult. "And yet he did sign, did he not?"

"My father would never had signed that, not if he had been well enough to know what it really was."

His father? Elain's father? He was–

"You're her brother," Edmund said, glancing at Bran and then at Elain. "Not her husband."

Elain bit her lip, nodding, and her eyes were filled with apology and, somehow, a relieved hope. Her brother, not her husband. Not her husband.

"We thought it would be easier to get out of Archenland and to the safety of the Lone Islands if we went as husband and wife rather than brother and sister," Bran admitted. "If we were looked for, it would not be as a couple."

"I swore to him before we left Archenland that I would not tell anyone the truth of it," Elain added, "not until we were safe. I begged him to release me after he came to Cair Paravel, but he would not."

"I did not know you then, King Edmund," Bran said, looking more than a little regretful. "The tales we had heard of you from Tashbaan, I mean, I didn't know what to think or who to trust."

"It was foolish of you," Solak said, "but it is no matter. Come, Elain, it is time your little charade came to an end. My ship is waiting to take us to Tashbaan."

"I won't," Elain said, clinging to Edmund's arm. "I am not your wife."

"In all but name," he replied, glancing down at the hateful document on the table. "We will marry in the Temple of Tash before my father the Tisroc (may he live forever) and all the gods. If you like, we can be married at Anvard as well, in the court of King Lune, to satisfy the traditions of your people. And, if the Just King prefers, in order to show the good faith of Calormen to the Majesty of Narnia, we can stop at Cair Paravel and have a ceremony there as well. You see, my beloved, I am all amiability in seeing to the comfort of my lovely bride."

"This is not Calormen," Edmund said coldly. "Nor is it Archenland." He put one hand flat on the contract. "In Narnia, no one can be married against his will."

"But you mistake, Just King," Solak said smoothly. "If you read the agreement, you will see that marriage is not what Master Teague agreed to but only a bond of service. Such an agreement is legal in my kingdom and yours. If I have honored the lady by elevating her from servant to wife, how can she or anyone object?"

"When I was in Tashbaan, I heard how you treat your women," Bran snarled. "Buying and selling them like beasts and using them no better." He spat at the Tarkaan's feet. "Before Narnia's Lion and any Calormen gods you care to name, I swear you will not take my sister."

Solak merely smirked and turned to Elain. "Come, wife."

With an oath, Bran snatched up the document, wadded it in both hands, and hurled it into the fire. Squealing as if he had been stuck, Gorby lunged for the paper. The Wolves lunged at Gorby. Solak lunged for Bran and hurled him against the parlor wall before Edmund could get between them. Bran took the impact directly on his injured shoulder and slid into an insensible heap on the floor.

"Bran!" Elain cried, but Solak seized her arm in an unyielding grip.

"Now, wife, it is time."

 **Author's Note: And now, at last, you know what's been going on. But what now?**


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Stop!" Edmund shouted over the growling and snapping of the Wolves, Gorby's wailing, Elain's pleas, and Solak's demands. "Romulus! Remus! Stand down! Quiet everyone!"

Suddenly there was nothing but the sound of the little man's whimpering. The Wolves had him backed into a corner, their teeth bared, but they were silent. Elain stopped trying to break free of the Tarkaan's hold, and Solak merely smiled.

"The law, great King," he said, his voice cool and silky smooth. "It is all in the agreement. Surely someone as famed for justice as the Just King of Narnia will see there is nothing here that is not rightly solemnized and well within the law."

"You must give me a moment, noble Tarkaan, to read through the agreement in detail," Edmund said. "Surely, if the document is as fairly and justly drawn as you claim, you cannot object to a reasonable review." Very gently, he took Solak's hand from Elain's arm. "A moment for her to see to her brother is not too much to ask, I trust." At that last word, Edmund's eyes met Elain's. She returned an almost imperceptible nod. _Trust_.

The Tarkaan inclined his head, and she ran to Bran who was already showing signs of coming around.

"I have no doubt, Just King, that the consideration of right and your own honor alone and nothing so petty as the displeasure of my father the Tisroc (may he live forever) or the disruption of the blessed peace between my kingdom and yours will compel to you to rule in my favor, though I ask that ruling merely as courtesy. For the sake of the great love between our fair lands."

"Oh, no doubt," Edmund murmured. "No doubt. Romulus, bring me the paper."

Gorby squeaked as the Wolf snatched the scorched document out of his hands and brought it to Edmund. Then, when Romulus immediately returned to his position next to Remus, fur bristling and yellow eyes glaring, the little man began to whimper again.

"Tell me, Solak Tarkaan," Edmund said, pretending to scan the document even though his only thoughts were on how he could free Elain from it, "your agreement with Master Teague was not for the marriage of his daughter, but for the financing of a merchant vessel, was it not?"

"It was, as the document says. But, in the event the venture failed, Master Teague agreed to bind his daughter to me in service. And, as I understand you have seen for yourself, _The Arabella_ has brought back nothing to repay the apothecary's debt. So, as is written into our law and hers and yours, the pledge is mine to take. As I have already said, I choose to honor the girl with marriage. Would you prefer she remain only a bondservant?"

"No," Edmund said placidly, though there was a hot rush of fury in this veins. "No, I have seen how you use your slave girls. I recall buying one of them in the market at Tashbaan just to save her from you."

"Ah, yes." Solak gave Edmund a faintly amused look. "And then at once released her. I have not forgotten."

"Well, then, whatever the debt her father owed you, I will pay it. Surely the treasure houses of Narnia contain more than the hold of a single ship."

Elain's eyes widened and a spark of hope came into them. Beside her, Bran blinked, still trying to clear his head.

"I have not forgotten," the Tarkaan repeated. "But I see this time it is more than just the famed chivalry of the Kings of Narnia that moves you. I see it in her eyes and in yours. And perhaps this time it is Calormen who shall preen and swagger as Narnia sees his prize snatched away. No, no, great King, not for all the treasure of Narnia and Narnia itself, were it yours to give, would I release my claim now. You stand before your Lion, your Aslan, and there you claim honor and justice for yourself and your whole land." There was now a smirk on his dark face. "Show it then. Uphold the law." He held out both hands, graceful, unarmed. "I come only seeking what is mine. Will you deny me it, O Just King?"

"Liar." Bran struggled to his feet, pushing away his sister's supporting hands, and his arm hung uselessly from his injured shoulder. "You deceived my father and made sure _The Arabella_ came back empty just so you could get your foul hands on my sister."

Solak spread one long-fingered hand over his heart, the picture of wounded innocence. "I? Dear brother, you mistake me. I came to your father with an agreement to his profit and mine. If your fair sister was included in the bargain, it was only because your father, may the gods give him rest, saw how my heart was ravished with love for her and, being as ill as he was, that he could trust her to my tender care once the worn thread of his life was finally cut."

"Liar again," Bran seethed. "Perhaps you did intend to partner with our father in _The Arabella_. He had many healing potions that would have been of great worth throughout the lands, but I saw what was in your lecherous heart once you turned your eyes on my sister. What did you do with the cargo _The Arabella_ brought back to pay our father's debt to you? Or what did you do with the goods she set out with?"

"Dear brother—"

"Don't deny it. Never deny it now. Did not your toad there, hoping I would lead him to my sister, follow me from Tashbaan and aboard _The Issus_ and even to Cair Paravel after she sank?" Bran's eyes were fiery with scorn as he looked at the still-cowering Gorby. "Pity you didn't go down with her."

"I've done nothing," the little man whined. "I've harmed no one."

"What about Captain Hoxa?" Bran demanded. "You brought me his token. Where is he?"

Gorby gaped at him and then turned pleading eyes to his master.

Solak's only response was an elegant shrug. "These men of the seas, they are ever eager to visit new and distant shores. Does not the Great Lion of Narnia wish for all to sail to His country?"

"In His time," Edmund said coldly. "Not yours."

"What happened to him?" Bran insisted again. "Where is he?"

"I have not seen him," the Tarkaan said. "I understand he gave his token to poor Gorby there to bring you to him and then, alas, stepped wrongly off the dock where your ship was moored. It was most careless of him, was it not, Gorby?"

There was a hint of a grin on Gorby's flabby lips, but it twisted into a grimace of terror as Romulus and Remus snarled at him and drove him further into the corner.

Bran swore at the Tarkaan and his henchman, but Edmund held up one hand.

"Leave that for now. It will be seen to."

"Leave nothing!" Bran jerked his chin toward Gorby. "You may hoist the toad on a gallows until he croaks, I care not. But that one, Tarkaan or turnspit, I'll not leave." With his left hand, he snatched the leather gloves from his belt and struck Solak across the face with them.

Elain gasped, grabbing his arm. "Bran—"

He shook her off, never taking his eyes from the Calormene. "Now, son of the Tisroc (may he burn forever), will you walk?"

Solak's eyes blazed, every vestige of cool elegance replaced with savage fury as his hand went to his sword.

"Don't make a fool of yourself, Bran," Edmund said mildly, putting himself between the two men. "It's very easy to make threats and spit out challenges when you know no man of honor can answer them. Not when you're hurt like that." He turned to the Calormene. "You must excuse him, Solak Tarkaan. Those of us with the blood of royalty in our veins understand the niceties of such matters."

"Get out of my way!" Bran raged, trying to get past Edmund, but the Tarkaan only sneered.

"True, Just King," Solak said as he smoothed his luxuriant oiled hair back into place. "Very true. But I expect the hothead will be well again in time, and we will at that time address this matter. I am content to wait."

"Or," Edmund said, "you might accept a willing substitute."

"A substitute?" The Tarkaan looked startled, and then a smile, a smile of fiendish expectation, curled his lip. "Truly?"

"No," Elaine breathed.

"No!" Bran spat. "I fight my own battles."

Edmund looked pointedly at his useless arm. "With that?"

"Are you certain this is something you wish to do, Great King?" Solak asked, looking wary now. "Is it meet that the Just King of Narnia should come to blows in order to lay aside a legal claim? Will all the world see there is one law for Narnia and another for her King?"

"Not so," Edmund told him. "I do not challenge you in my own right, to lay aside this agreement you have made. It is an abomination, but it falls fairly within the laws of Archenland and Calormen. I merely take on another's challenge, to stand in his place. You may consider that it was I who struck you and not he." Edmund allowed himself the smallest of smiles. "Or, having nobly refused to fight an injured man, will you then bravely refuse to fight a sound one?"

"And you, Just King, bravely challenge where you know I may not answer. Will not your brother, the High King, bring his armies to the very gates of the Temple of Tash should I shed even a drop of your blood? There is peace between your kingdom and mine, but will it not be shattered in such a case? And will not my father, the Tisroc (may he live forever), be angry with me for igniting such a war in so petty a matter as the fate of this one inconsequential girl?"

"You seem to have gone to great lengths for someone so inconsequential," Edmund observed.

"She is mine. By law and by right, she is mine, and I say I will have her."

"And I say I will stand in the place of my friend. I am only a private gentleman come to you in a private quarrel." Edmund drew his sword and gave Solak a tight smile. "Will you walk?"

 **Author's Note: Reviews are love.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in The Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me. Romulus and Remus appear by the kind permission of Lady Alambiel.**

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Edmund put the scorched agreement back on the small table near the flickering hearth, still watching the Tarkaan, still with his sword drawn and ready. For the longest time, Solak said nothing, his black eyes narrowed as he tried to read Edmund's face. Then, his sly smile returning, he turned to his toady.

"Give me that," he barked, waving one hand toward Gorby's laced tunic.

Gorby gaped at him. "I don't—"

"That, imbecile."

Before Gorby could comply, Solak yanked the twisted silken cord from the tunic and used it to pull his gleaming black locks into a queue at the base of his neck. Then, turning again to Edmund, he drew his blade.

"Have we then an understanding, great King?"

Edmund gave him a curt nod. "A private quarrel between private gentlemen, in answer for the insult given your person by that man there." He inclined his head toward Bran. "In whose place I, also a private gentleman, now stand, and having nothing whatever to do with the most cordial relations between Calormen and Narnia or the lawful agreement between yourself and one Master Teague, apothecary of Archenland. Are we agreed?"

"King Edmund," Bran began in protest.

"Don't," Elain breathed.

Edmund held up his free hand, not looking at them. "Are we agreed, Solak Tarkaan?"

He could read the Tarkaan's thoughts in his eyes as well as if the Calormene had spoken them aloud. He was a noted swordsman in his own country and in all the lands. If he rid Calormen of one of the cursed White Barbarian Kings without any diplomatic or military consequences, surely the Tisroc (may he live forever) would value even the thirty-seventh of his many sons. And Solak would, without hindrance, at last possess the Apothecary's delectable daughter. The brother was in no fit state to oppose him. The Wolves—

As if to confirm that Edmund's assumptions were correct, Solak looked over at Romulus and Remus who were still standing watch over Gorby in the corner of the room. "And your beasts there? What will they do should you be overcome in this 'private quarrel'?"

Both Wolves looked at Edmund with pleading yellow eyes.

Edmund fixed them with an unyielding glare. "They will return with Bran to Narnia."

Romulus's nose quivered.

"They will not," Edmund said firmly, "in any way interfere with you and your party returning to your ship and to Tashbaan."

"And the lady?" Solak asked, one corner of his mouth twitching.

"She will do as your agreement says."

An almost-inaudible whine escaped Remus's lips, but he immediately quieted at a sign from Edmund.

"I won't allow it," Bran spat. "If you don't kill him, I will."

Edmund whirled to face him. "You'll _be_ killed! In your condition, there's no other possibility. What good will that do your sister?"

Elain was clinging to her brother's good arm, her eyes filled with tears but her head held high, and then she turned to Bran. "Let him."

He looked at her, still pale and shaky, and then at Edmund.

Edmund met his gaze steadily. "Let me. For her sake."

Bran looked from him to Elain and then back again. Then he sank into a nearby chair. "As you say. And your Lion be with you."

Edmund dropped to one knee before Elain, his head bowed, the point of his sword touching the floor and his forehead against the hilt. "Your favor, lady." He looked up at her. "And your blessing."

Her tears spilled onto her cheeks, but she merely cupped his face in her hands and touched her lips, soft and warm, to his forehead. "My blessing, My Lord, and all my heart."

It was enough. He took her hands, pressing them fervently to his lips, and then he stood, clearing every trace of emotion from his face.

"And your toad there?" he asked Solak. "Should you lose, he will be certain to tell your father the Tisroc (may he never come nearer to Narnia than Tashbaan) the true terms of our agreement?"

"He will." Solak turned to Gorby. "You have heard everything?"

Gorby gave a trembling nod.

"You will say neither more nor less of this matter than what you have truly seen and heard," the Tarkaan said, "or may Tash take you to eternal torment, and that only after my father's royal torturers have, for a year and a day, used you to hone their craft."

Gorby held out both hands. "O, great Tarkaan—"

"Be silent."

Gorby swallowed down whatever oath he might have intended to make, stifling, too, a squeak of alarm when one of his outstretched hands got close enough to Remus to make the Wolf growl and bare his gleaming teeth.

Still with his sword in one hand, Edmund drew his dagger. "So we are on all points agreed?"

Solak drew his own dagger, a small curved blade, lavishly bejeweled. "Agreed."

In the same moment, they plunged their knives into the document, pinning it to the table.

Edmund gestured to the door that led back into the inn's main room and, through it, outside. "Will you walk?"

The Tarkaan looked mildly amused. "I think not, great King. I prefer instead to keep the matter between us. Here. I have no desire to be gawked at by the rabble off the street. In my country, gentlemen of royal birth do not display themselves for the amusement of the masses."

So that was it. Edmund had heard of such things in Calormen among the nobility. They made themselves experts at dueling in small spaces. It seemed that it was not unusual for a quarrel to spring up from a chance comment at a palace dinner or a morning's council meeting. And Solak Tarkaan, it was rumored, had taken his part in more than a few duels.

Edmund inclined his head. "As you say. But the room—"

"Gorby!" Solak waved one hand toward the table and chairs in the center of the room, and the little man scurried to push everything he could up against the walls.

The Tarkaan merely leaned against the mantel watching him, the flickering orange light from the hearth shimmering along the length of his sword and catching the gold of his heavy earrings and the black shine of his smoothly oiled hair. He knew exactly what he was doing, the swine. Well, Edmund wasn't about to let him have it all his own way.

 _Aslan_ , he prayed silently as Gorby, panting and sweating now, hustled the last chair out of the way. _Be my good Lord. And if I spend my blood or my life, let it be enough to win her freedom._

"It is done, mighty Tarkaan," Gorby said, mopping his face on one sleeve.

Elain sat next to her brother, their chairs against the wall farthest from the fire. Her cat, slinking low to the floor, settled at her feet, mostly hidden by her skirts. At Edmund's nod, the Wolves settled near her, too. In a matter of honor, they could not interfere.

Solak stepped away from the hearth, just a hint of insufferable smugness in his cool expression. "Now, great King."

 _Trust._

The word was almost a low purr in his ear, and the words he had said to Elain, it seemed an age ago, came back to him. _"He said He would give me all I need and more than I could ask. If only I would trust Him."_ Trust.

Edmund bowed slightly. "Now."

Solak's sudden lunge didn't surprise him, though it made Elain gasp and one of the Wolves growl. Edmund parried the thrust easily and answered with a quick flurry of his own. The Tarkaan was at least ten years his senior and twenty pounds heavier, but the weight was all lean muscle and he was surprisingly light on his feet. Oreius would have approved of his economy of motion and excellent technique. He wasn't as good as Peter, of course, but he was well trained, and Edmund found he needed every bit of his skill and concentration to keep up with the Calormene.

Soon the room grew hot, the air still except for the strained breathing of the combatants and close with the too-warm hearth fire. Gorby stood near the hearth, flabby mouth gaping wide, pale eyes goggling, his laceless tunic hanging open in front. Elain on the other side of the room clasped her glowering brother's arm, her white fingers twisted into the linen of his sleeve. Solak said nothing, but his expression grew darker and darker as the duel continued. The dull, rhythmic clang of sword on sword seemed to anger him, and he began to thrust more wildly. He was growing impatient, and impatience was something Orieus had always warned Edmund against.

Edmund drove at him, backing him toward the fire, toward Gorby, and Solak began to breathe more heavily. He swung frantically at Edmund's head, and Edmund ducked under his blade, lunging at him, making him stumble and fall back against the stones of the hearth.

"Tarkaan!" Gorby squeaked, and Elain cried out, but Edmund took a step back, drawing slow breaths as he stood there. No matter how tempting it was, it wouldn't do to take an unfair advantage of an opponent in a matter of honor, even if that opponent was a despicable swine.

Solak huddled there on the floor, for a moment looking as if he expected Edmund to end the duel then and there. Then he got to his feet, throwing off his creature's helping hands, and bowed gracefully before lunging at Edmund once again. Edmund answered, and again came the clang and clash of swords. Cringing away from them, Gorby crept out of his corner and further along the wall, away from the hearth, away from the sting of sharpened steel.

Edmund drove the Tarkaan back again, quickening his pace, forcing the winded Calormene to move faster and faster. Then Solak was forcing Edmund toward the wall, his blade coming harder and more savagely with every stroke, his breathing harsh and full of low curses. He was fading. Now was the time to end it.

"You don't want to die for this, Solak Tarkaan." Edmund turned aside another blow, driving his opponent again toward the hearth. "Tear up the agreement. Release the lady. I will pay you ten times what that cargo was worth and you shall have your life in the bargain."

Solak merely glared at him, redoubling his efforts, and then there was an odd smile on his thin, cruel lips. He feinted at Edmund's right side.

Edmund sprang back and stumbled over something that hadn't been there before. Gorby. The wretched eel had put his foot out just enough to make Edmund lose his balance, and now he sprang out of the way as Edmund's feet went out from under him. Edmund landed hard and thought he heard Elain cry out somewhere behind him and his Wolves growl, but it was the low, guttural sound of Solak's gloating that held his attention. The Tarkaan hurtled toward him, his gleaming blade thirsting for Narnian blood, his dark eyes almost all pupil, glowing with anticipation.

His reaction more instinctive than calculated, Edmund levered himself against the floor, kicking out with both feet, hurling Solak backward, head and shoulders into the hearth fire. At once, the right side of his oiled hair burst into flames. He flung away his sword, shrieking and pounding his head with both hands, kicking his legs and rolling on the floor.

"Tarkaan!" Gorby squealed. "Tarkaan!"

"Get water, you fool!" Edmund shouted at him. "Give me that!" He dragged the cloak off the blubbering man's shoulders and then shoved him toward the door. "Water!"

Gorby ran from the room, and Edmund knelt beside the still-screaming Tarkaan, trying to get past his flailing hands and put out the fire with the cloak.

"Stop it! Let me help you!"

"Edmund." Elain dropped to her knees beside him, trying to help him calm the Tarkaan.

Between the two of them, they managed to hold Solak's arms, then Bran grabbed the cloak and used it to smother the fire. A moment later, the wide-eyed barmaid bustled into the room with a bucket of water and Gorby cringing behind her. Solak was only moaning now.

"Oh, sir! Oh, sir! It's terrible! What horrible cries! What can I do?"

"Have you got a healer somewhere nearby?" Edmund asked her. "Someone who can help this man?"

"Old Mrs. Hawker sometimes knows what to do. I'll send for her straight away."

"And get those people out of the door."

The barmaid flew at the gawkers. "Go on now, the lot of you. And you, John Willoway! Get out!"

"He'd better have something to cut the pain," Bran said once she had shut the door firmly behind her. "I'll go see if she has anything stronger than ale."

Bran came back with something Dwarf made and quite strong. Between the three of them, they did what they could to ease the Tarkaan's suffering while Gorby sat gawping at them and whining every time one of the Wolves growled at him. By the time Old Mrs. Hawker arrived, Solak was too inebriated to feel anything and didn't know it when he was carried upstairs to bed. Edmund was glad to let the healer look after him at that point.

He went back into the parlor, trying to ignore the smell of burnt hair and flesh, and looked at the agreement still pinned to the little table in the corner with his dagger and Solak's. His brilliant plan hadn't solved anything.

 **Author's Note: Owie! I'd love to know what you think.**


End file.
